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LEISURE MOMENT SERIES. 


New Arabian Rights 



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

\ \ 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1882. 


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NOTE. 


I MUST prefix a word of thanks to the gentleman who 
condescended to borrow the gist of one of my stories, 
and even to honor it with the addition of his signature. 
This mark of appreciation emboldened me to make the 
present collection. 


R. L. S. 





CONTENTS, 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 

■pAGfc 

Story of the Young Man wirii the Cream Tarts . 3 
Story of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk . 36 
The Adventure of the Hansom Cabs . . . .65 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 

Story of the Bandbqx 89 

Story of THE Young Man IN Holy Orders . . .116 
Story. OF the House with the Green Blinds . . .133 
The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detective , 166 


THE PA VI LION ON THE LINKS. 


CHAPTER 

I. Tells How I Camped in Graden Sea-wood and 

beheld a Light in the Pavilion. . . .177 

II. Tells of the Nocturnal Landing from the 

Yacht ........ 185 

III. Tells how I became, acquainted with my Wife . 192 

IV. Tells in what a startling manner I learned 

that I was not alone in Graden Sea-wood . 201 

V. Tells of an Interview between Northmour, 

Clara, and Myself ...... 210 

VI. Tells of my Introduction to the Tall Man . 216 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

VII. Tells how a Word was Cried through the 

Pavilion Window 223 

VIII. Tells the Last of the Tall Man . . . 230 

IX. Tells now Northmour carried out his Threat . 237 

« 

A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT . . . .245 

THE SIRE DE MALETROITS DOOR . . .271 

PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR . . . .297 


■THE SUICIDE CLUB. 
















4 



THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN WITH THE CREAM TARTS. 

D uring his residence in London, the accomplished 
Prince Florizel of Bohemia gained the affection 
of all classes by the seduction of his manner and by a 
well-considered generosity. Pic was a remarkable 
man even by what was known of him ; and that was 
but a small part of what he actually did. Although 
of a placid temper in ordinary circumstances, and 
accustomed to take the world with as much philosophy 
as any ploughman, the Prince of Bohemia was not 
Avithout a taste for Avays of life mpre adventurous and 
eccentric than that to Avhich he Avas destined by his 
birth. Nov.^ and then, Avhen he fell into a Ioav humor, 
Avhen there was no laughable play to Avitness in any of 
the London theatres, and Avhen the season of the year 
was unsuitable to those field sports in Avhich he 
excelled all competitors, he Avould summon his confi- 
dant and Master of the Horse, Colonel Geraldine, and 
bid him prepare himself against an evening ramble. 
The Master of the Horse Avas a young officer of a 
brave and even temerarious disposition. He greeted 
the news with delight, and hastened to make ready. 
Long practice and a varied acquaintance of life had 
given him a singular facility in disguise ; he could 
adapt not only his face and "bearing, but his voice and 
almost his thoughts, to those of any rank, character, or 
nation ; and in this way he diverted attention from the 
Prince, and sometimes gained admission for the pair 
into strange societies. The civil authorities Avere 
never taken into the secret of these adventures ; the 
imperturbable courage of the one and the ready inven- 
tion and chivalrous devotion of the other had brought 


4 


jVElV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


them through a score of dangerous passes ; and they 
grew in confidence as time went on. 

One evening in March they were driven by a sharp 
fall of sleet into an Oyster Bar in the immediate neigh- 
borhood of Leicester Square. Colonel Geraldine was 
dressed and painted to represent a person connected 
with the Press in reduced circumstances ; while the 
Prince had, as usual, travestied his appearance by the 
addition of false whiskers and a pair of large adhesive 
eyebrows. These lent him a shaggy and weather-beaten 
air, which, for one of his urbanity, formed the most 
impenetrable disguise. Thus equipped, the com- 
mander and his satellite sipped their brandy and soda 
in security. 

The bar was full of guests, both male and female ; 
but though more than one of these offered to fall into 
talk with our adventurers, none of them promised 
to grow interesting upon a nearer acquaintance. There 
was nothing present” but the lees of London S'nd the 
commonplace of disrespectability ; and the Prince had 
already fallen to yawning, and was beginning to grow 
weary of the whole excursion, when the swing doors 
were piished violently open, and a young man, followed 
by a couple of commissionaires, entered the bar. Each 
of the commissionaires carried a large dish of cream 
tarts under a cover, which they at once removed ; and 
the young man made the round of the company, and 
pressed these confections upon everyone’s accept- 
ance with an e.xaggerated courtesy. Sometimes his 
offer was laughingly accepted ; sometimes it was firmly, 
or even harshly, rejected. In these latter cases the new- 
comer always ate the tart himself, with some more or 
less humorous commentary. 

At last he accosted Prince Florizel. 

“ Sir,” said he, with a profound obeisance, proffering 
the tart at the same time between his thumb and fore- 
finger, “ will you so far honor an entire stranger ? I 
can answer for the quality of the pastry, having eaten 
two dozen and three of them myself since five oclock.” 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


5 


“ I am in the habit,” replied the Prince, “ of looking 
not so much to the nature of a gift as to the spirit in 
which it is offered.” 

“ The spirit, sir,” returned the young man, with 
another bow, “ is one of mockery.” 

“Mockery?” repeated Florizel. “And whom do 
you propose to mock ? ” 

“I am not here to expound my philosophy,” replied 
the other, “ but to distribute these cream tarts. If I 
mention that I heartily include myself in the ridicule 
of the transaction, I hope you Avill consider honor sat- 
isfied and condescend. If not, you will constrain me 
to eat my twenty-eighth, and I own to being weary of 
the exercise.” 

“You touch me,” said the Prince/ “and I have all 
the will in the world to rescue you from this dilemma, 
but upon one condition. If my friend and I eat your 
cakes — for which we have neither of us any natural 
inclinaCion — we shall expect you to join us at supper 
by way of recompense.” 

The young man seemed to reflect. 

“ I have still several dozen upon hand,” he said at 
last ; “ and that will make it necessary for me to visit 
several more bars before my great affair is concluded. 
This will take some time ; and if you are hungry — ” 

The Prince interrupted him with a polite gesture. 

“ My friend and I will accompany you,” he said : 
“ for we have already a deep interest in your very 
agreeable mode of passing an evening. And now that 
the preliminaries of peace are settled, allow me to sign 
the treaty for both.” 

And the Prince swallowed the tart with the best 
grace imaginable. 

“ It is delicious,” said he. 

“ I perceive you are a connoisseur,” replied the 
young man. 

Colonel Geraldine likewise did honor to the pastry ; 

’ -^very one in that bar having now either accepted 
"d his delicacies, the young man with the 


6 


NE IF AEABIAN’ NIGHTS. 


cream tarts led the way to another and similar estab- 
lishment. The two commissionaires, who seemed to 
have grown accustomed to their absurd employment, 
followed immediately after ; and the Prince and the 
Colonel brought up the rear, arm in arm, and smiling 
to each other as they went. In this order the company 
visited two other taverns, where scenes were enacted 
of a like nature to that already described — some refus- 
ing, some accepting, the favors of this vagabond hos- 
pitality, and the young man himself eating each 
rejected tart. 

On leaving the third saloon the young man counted 
his store. There were but nine remaining, three in 
one tray and six in the other. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he, addressing himself to his two 
new followers, “ I am unwilling to delay your supper. 
I am positively sure you must be hungry. I feel 
that I owe you a special consideration. And on this 
great day for me, when I am closing a career of folly 
by my most conspicuously silly action, I wish to behave 
handsomely to all who give me countenance. Gentle- 
men, you shall wait no longer. Although my consti- 
tution is shattered by previous excesses, at the risk of 
my life I liquidate the suspensory condition.” 

With these words he crashed the nine remaining 
tarts into his mouth, and swallowed them at a single 
movement each. Then, turning to the commissionaires, 
he gave them a couple of sovereigns. 

“ I have to thank you,” said he, “ for your extra- 
ordinary patience.” 

And he dismissed them with a bow apiece. For 
some seconds he stood looking at the purse from which 
he had just paid his assistants, then, with a laugh, he 
tossed it into the middle of the street, and signified his 
readiness for supper. 

In a small French restaurant in Soho, which had 
enjoyed an exaggerated reputation for some little 
while, but had already begun to be forgotten, and in a 
private room up two pair of stairs, the three conpan- 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


7 


ions made a very elegant supper, and drank three or 
four bottles of champagne, talking the while upon indif- 
ferent subjects. The young man was fluent and gay, 
but he laughed louder than was natural in a person of 
polite breeding ; his hands trembled violently, and his 
voice took sudden and surprising inflections, which 
seemed to be independent of his will. The dessert had 
been cleared away, and all three had lighted their cigars, 
when the Prince addressed him in these Avords : — 

“ You will, I am sure, pardon my curiosity. What I 
have seen of you has greatly pleased but even more 
puzzled me. And though I should be loth to seem 
indiscreet, I must tell you that my friend and I are 
persons very well Avorthy to be entrusted Avith a secret. 
We have many of our OAvn, A\diich Ave are continually 
revealing to improper ears. And if, as I suppose, your 
story is a silly one, you need have no delicacy Avith us, 
Avho are tAvo of the silliest men in England. My name 
is Godall, Theophilus Godall ; my friend is Major 
Alfred Hammersmith — or at least, such is the name by 
Avhich he chooses to be knoAvn. We pass our lives 
entirely in the search for extravagant adventures ; and 
there is no extravagance Avith Avhich Ave are not capable- 
of sympathy.” 

“ I like you, Mr. Godall,”- returned the young man ; 
“ you inspire me Avith a natural confidence ; and I 
have not the slightest objection to your friend, the 
;Major ; Avhom I take to be a nobleman in mascpierade. 
At least, I am sure he is no soldier.” 

The Colonel smiled at this compliment to the perfec- 
tion of his art ; and the young man went on in a more 
animated manner. 

“There is every reason -Avhy I should not tell you 
my story. Perhaps that is just the reason Avhy I am 
going to do so. At least, you seem so Avell prepared to 
hear a tale of silliness that I cannot find it in my heart 
to disappoint you. My name, in spite of your example, 

I shall keep to myself. My age is not essential to the 
narrative. I am descended from my ancestors by 


8 


JVBIV ABABIABT NIGHTS. 


ordinary generation, and from them I inherited the 
very eligible human tenement which I still occupy and 
a fortune of three hundred pounds a year. I suppose 
they also handed on to me a hare-brain humor, which 
it has been my chief delight to indulge. I received a 
good education. I can play the violin nearly well 
enough to earn money in the orchestra of a penny 
gaff, but not quite. The same remark applies to the 
flute and the French horn. _ I learned enough of 
whist to lose about a hundred a year at that scientific 
game. My acquaintance with French was sufficient to 
enable me to squander money in Paris with almost the 
same facility as in London. In short, I am a person 
full of manly accomplishments. I have had every sort 
of adventure, including a duel about nothing. Only 
two months ago I met a young lady exactly suited to 
my taste in mind and body ; I found my heart melt ; 
I saw that I had come upon my fate at last, and was in 
the way to fall in love. But when I came to reckon 
up what remained to me of my capital, I found it 
amounted to something less than four hundred pounds ! 
I ask you fairly — can a man who respects himself fall 
in love on four hundred pounds ? I concluded, cer- 
tainly not; left the presence of my charmer, and 
slightly accelerating my usual rate of expenditure, 
came this morning to my last eighty pounds. This I 
divided into two equal parts ; forty I reserved for a 
particular purpose ; the remaining forty I was to dis- 
sipate before the night. I have passed a very enter- 
taining day, and played many farces besides that of 
the cream tarts which procured me the advantage of 
your acquaintance ; for I was determined, as I told you, 
to bring a foolish career to a still more foolish conclu- 
sion ; and when you saw me throw my purse into the 
street, the forty pounds were at an end. Now you 
know me as well as I know myself : a fool but consist- 
ent in his folly ; and, as I wull ask you to believe, 
neither a whimperer nor a coward.*' 

From the whole tone of the young man’s statement 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


9 


it was plain that he harbored very bitter and contempt- 
uous thoughts about himself. His auditors were led 
to imagine that his love affair was nearer his heart than 
he admitted, and that he had a design on his own life. 
The farce of the cream tarts began to have very much 
the air of a tragedy in disguise. 

“ Why, is this not odd,” broke out Geraldine, giving 
a look to Prince Florizel, ‘‘ that we three fellows should 
have met by the merest accident in so large a wilder- 
ness as London, and should be so nearly in the same 
condition ? ” 

“ How ? ” cried the young man. “ Are you, too, 
ruined ? Is this supper a folly like my cream tarts ? 
Has the devil brought three of his own together for a 
last carouse ?” 

“ The devil, depend upon it, can sometimes do a 
very gentlemanly thing,” returned Prince Florizel ; 
“ and I am so much touched by this coincidence, that, 
although we are not entirely in the same case, I am 
going to put an end to the disparity. Let your heroic 
treatment of the last cream tarts be my example.” 

So saying, the Prince drew out his purse and took 
from it a small bundle of bank-notes. 

“You see, I was a week or so behind you, but I 
mean to catch you up and come neck and neck into 
the winning-post,” he continued. “This,” laying one 
of the notes upon the table, will suffice for the bill. 
As for the rest ” 

He tossed them into the fire, and they went up the 
chimney in a single blaze. 

The young man tried to catch his arm, but as the 
table was* between them his interference came too late. 

“Unhappy man,” he cried, “you should not have 
burned them all ! You should have kept forty pounds.” 

“ Forty pounds ! ” repeated the Prince. “ Why, in 
heaven’s name, forty pounds?” 

“ Why not eighty ? ” cried the Colonel ; “ for to my 
certain knowledge there must have been a hundred in 
the bundle.” 


lO 


NEIF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“It was only forty pounds he needed,” said the 
young man gloomily. “ But without them there is no 
admission. The rule is strict. Forty pounds for 
each. Accursed life, where a man cannot even die 
Avithout money ! ” 

The Prince and the Colonel exchanged glances. 

“ Explain yourself,” said the latter. “ I have still a 
pocket-book tolerably well lined, and I need not say 
hoAv readily I Avould share my Avealth Avith Godall. But 
I must knoAV to vA'hat end ; you must certainly tell us 
Avhat you mean.” 

The young man seemed to aAvaken ; he looked 
uneasily from one to the other, and his face flushed 
deeply. 

“You are not fooling me?” he asked. “You are 
indeed ruined men like me ? ” 

“ Indeed, I am for my part,” replied the Colonel. 

“ And for mine,” said the Prince, “ I have given you 
proof. Who but a ruined man would throAv his notes 
into the fire ? The action speaks for itself.” 

“A ruined man — yes,” returned the other suspi- 
ciously, “ or else a millionaire.” 

“ Enough, sir,” said the Prince ; “ I have said so, 
and I am not accustomed to have my word remain in 
doubt.” 

“ Ruined ? ” said the young man. “ Are you ruined, 
like me ? Are you, after a life of indulgence, come 
to such a pass that you can only indulge yourself in 
one thing more? Are you” — he kept loAvering his 
voice as he Avent on — “ are you going to give your- 
selves that last indulgence ! Are you going to avoid 
the consequences of yoUr folly by the one infallible 
and easy path ? Are you going to give the slip to the 
sheriff’s officers of conscience by the one open door ? ” 

vSuddenly he broke off and attempted to laugh. 

“ Here is your health ! ” he cried, emptying his 
glass, “ and good night to you, my merry ruined men.” 

Colonel Geraldine caught him by the arm as he was 
about to rise. 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


II 


“You lack confidence in us,” he said, “and you are 
wrong. To all your questions I make answer in the 
affirmative. But I am not so timid, and can speak the 
Queen’s English plainly. We too, like yourself, have 
had enough of life, and are determined to die. Sooner 
or later, alone or together, we meant to seek out death 
and beard him where he lies ready. Since we have 
met you, and your case is more pressing, let it be to- 
night — and at once — and, if you will, all three together. 
Such a penniless trio,” he cried, “should go arm in 
arm into the halls of Pluto, and give each other some 
countenance among the shades ! ” 

Geraldine had hit exactly on the manners and into- 
nations that became the part he was playing. The 
Prince himself was disturbed, and looked over at his 
confidant with a shade of doubt. As for the young 
man, the flush came back darkly into his cheek, and 
his eyes threw out a spark of light. 

“You are the men for me!” he cried, with an 
almost terrible gayety. “Shake hands upon the bar- 
gain!” (his hand was cold and wet.) “You little 
know in what a company you will begin the march ! 
You little know in what a happy moment for yourselves 
you partook of my cream tarts ! I am only a unit, 
but I am a unit in an army. I know Death’s private 
door. I am one of his familiars, and can show you 
into eternity without ceremony and yet without scan- 
dal.” 

They called upon him eagerly to explain his mean- 
ing. 

“ Can you muster eighty pounds between you ? ” he 
demanded. 

Geraldine ostentatiously consulted his pocket-book, 
and replied in the affirmative. 

“ Fortunate beings ! ” cried the young man. “ Forty 
pounds is the entry money of the Suicide Club.” 

“The Suicide Club,” said the Prince, “why, what 
the devil is that ? ” 

“ Listen,” said the young man ; “this is the age of 


12 


J^EIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


conveniences, and I have to tell you of the last per- 
fection of the sort. We have affairs in different places; 
and hence railways were invented. Railways sepa- 
rated us infallibly from our friends ; and so telegraphs 
were made that we might communicate speedily at 
great distances. Even in hotels we have lifts to spare 
us a climb of some hundred steps. Now, we know 
that life is only a stage to play the fool upon as long 
as the part amuses us. There was one more conveni- 
ence lacking to modern comfort ; a decent, easy way 
to quit that stage ; the back stairs to liberty ; or, as I 
said this moment. Death’s private door. This, my 
two fellow-rebels, is supplied by the Suicide Club. 
Do not suppose that you and I are alone, or even 
exceptional, in the highly reasonable desire that we 
profess. A large number of our fellow-men, who have 
grown heartily sick of the performance in which they 
are expected to join daily and all their lives long, are 
only kept from flight by one or two considerations. 
Some have families who would be shocked, or even 
blamed, if the matter became public ; others have a 
weakness at heart and recoil from the circumstances 
of death. That is, to some extent, my own experi- 
ence. I cannot put a pistol to my head and draw the 
trigger ; for something stronger than myself withholds 
the act ; and although I loathe life, I have not strength 
enough in my body to take hold of death and be done 
with it. For such as I, and for all who desire to be 
out of the coil without posthumous scandal, the Suicide 
Club has been inaugurated. How this has been man- 
aged, what is its history, or what may be its ramifica- 
tions in other lands, I am myself uninformed ; and 
what I know of its constitution, I am pot at liberty to 
communicate to you. To this extent, however, I am 
at your service. If you are truly tired of life, I will 
introduce you to-night to a meeting; and if not to-night, 
at least some time within the week, you will be easily 
relieved of your existences. It is now (consulting his 
watch) eleven ; by half-past, at latest, we must leave 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


13 


this place ; so that you have half an hour before you 
to consider my proposal. It is more serious than a 
cream tart,” he added, with a smile; “and I suspect 
more palatable.” 

“ More serious, certainly,” returned Colonel Geral- 
dine ; “and as it is so much more so, will you allow 
me five minutes’ speech in private with my friend, Mr. 
Godall ? ” 

“ It is only fair,” answered the young man. “ If 
you will permit, I will retire.” 

“ You will be very obliging,” said the Colonel. 

As soon as the two were alone — “ What,” said Prince 
Florizel, “ is the use of this confabulation, Geraldine ? 
I see you are flurried, whereas my mind is very tran- 
quilly made up. I will see the end of this.” 

“Your Highness,” said the Colonel turning pale; 
“let me ask you to consider the importance of your 
life, not only to your friends, but to the public interest. 

‘ If not to-night,’ said this madman ; but supposing 
that to-night some irreparable disaster were to over- 
take your Highness’s person, what, let me ask you, 
wh.at would be my despair, and what the concern and 
disaster of a great nation ? ” 

“ I will see the end of this,” repeated the Prince in 
his most deliberate tones ; “ and have the kindness. 
Colonel Geraldine, to remember and respect your 
word of honor as a gentleman. Under no circum- 
stances, recollect, nor without my special authority, 
are you to betray the incognito under which I choose 
to go abroad. These were my commands, which I 
now reiterate. And now,” he added, “ let me ask. 
you to call for the bill.” 

Colonel Geraldine bowed in submission ; but he had 
a very white face as he summoned the young man of 
the cream tarts, and issued his directions to the waiter. 
The Prince preserved his undisturbed demeanor, and 
described a Palais Royal farce to the young suicide 
with great humor and gusto. He avoided the Col- 
onel’s appealing looks without ostentation, and selected 


14 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


another cheroot with more than usual care. Indeed, 
he was now the only man of the party who kept any 
command over his nerves. 

The bill was discharged, the Prince giving the whole 
change of the note to the astonished waiter ; and the 
three drove off in a four wheeler. They were not long 
upon the way before the cab stopped at the entrance 
to a rather dark court. Here all descended. 

After Geraldine had paid the fare, the young- man 
turned, and addressed Prince Florizel as follows : 

“ It is still time, Mr. Godall, to make good your 
escape into thralldom. And for you too, Major Ham- 
mersmith. Reflect well before you take another 
step ; and if your hearts say no — here are the cross- 
roads.” 

“ Lead on, sir,” said the Prince. “ I am not the 
man to go back from a thing once said.” 

“Your coolness does me good,” replied their guide. 
“ I have never seen anyone so unmoved at this con- 
juncture; and yet you are not the first whom I have 
escorted to this door. More than one of my friends 
has preceded me, where I knew I must shortly follow. 
But this is of no interest to you. Wait me here for 
only a few moments; I shall return as soon as I have 
arranged the preliminaries of your introduction.” 

And with that the young man, Avaving his hand to 
his companions, turned into the court, entered a door- 
way and disappeared. 

“ Of all our follies,” said Colonel Geraldine in a low 
voice, “this is the Avildest and most dangerous.” 

. “ I perfectly believe so,” returned the Prince. 

“ We have still,” pursued the Colonel, “ a moment 
to ourselves. Let me beseech your Highness to profit 
by the opportunity and retire. The consequences of 
this step are so dark, and may be so grave, that I feel 
myself justified in pushing a little farther than usual 
the liberty Avliich your Highness is so condescending 
as to alloAv me in private.” 

“ Am I to understand that Colonel Geraldine is 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


15 


afraid ? ” asked his Highness, taking his cheroot from 
his lips, and looking keenly into the other’s face. 

“ My fear is certainly not personal,” replied the other 
proudly; “ of that your highness may rest well assured.” 

“ I had supposed as much,” returned the Prince, 
with undisturbed good humor; “but I was unwilling 
to remind you of the difference in our stations. No 
more — no more,” he added, seeing Geraldine about to 
apologize, “you stand excused.” 

And he smol^ed placidly, leaning against a railing, 
until the young man returned. 

“Well,” he asked, “has our reception been ar- 
ranged ? ” 

“ Follow me,” was the reply. “The President will 
see you in the cabinet. And let me warn you to be 
frank in your answers. I have stood your guarantee; 
but the club requires a searching inquiry before admis- 
sion ; fetr the indiscretion of a single member would 
lead to the dispersion of the whole society forever.” 

The Prince and Geraldine put their heads together 
for a moment. “ Bear me out in this,” said the one ; 
and “ bear me out in that,” said the other ; and by 
boldly taking up the characters of men with whom 
both were acquainted, they had come to an agreement 
in a twinkling, and were ready to follow their guide 
into the President’s cabinet. 

There were no formidable obstacles to pass. The 
outer door stood open ; the door of the cabinet was 
ajar ; and there, in a small but very high apartment, 
the young man left them once more. 

“ He will be here immediately,” he said with a nod, 
as he disappeared. 

Voices were audible in the cabinet through the fold- 
ing doors which formed one end ; and now and then 
the noise of a champagne cork, followed by a burst of 
laughter, intervened among the sounds of conversation. 
A single tall window looked out upon the river and the 
embankment ; and by the disposition of the lights they 
judged them.selves not far from Charing Cross station. 


i6 


ATEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


The furniture was scanty, and the coverings worn to 
the thread ; and there was nothing movable except a 
hand-bell in the centre of a round table, and the hats 
and coats of a considerable party hung round the wall 
on pegs. 

“ What sort of a den is this ? ” said Geraldine. 

“ That is what I have come to see," replied the 
Prince. “ If they keep live devils on the premises, the 
thing may grow amusing.” 

Just then the folding door was opened no more than 
was necessary for the passage of a human body ; and 
there entered at the same moment a louder buzz of 
talk, and the redoubtable President of the Suicide 
Club. The President was a man of fifty or upwards ; 
large and rambling in his gait, with shaggy side- 
whiskers, a bald top to his head, and a veiled gray eye, 
which now and then emitted a twinkle. His mouth, 
which embraced a large cigar, he kept cofitinually 
screwing round and round and from side to side, as he 
looked sagaciously and coldly at the strangers. He 
was dressed in light tweeds, with his neck very open, 
in a striped shirt collar ; and carried a minute book 
under one arm. 

“ Good evening,” said he, after he had closed the door 
behind him. “I am told you wish to speak with me.” 

“ AVe have a desire, sir, to join the Suicide Club,” 
replied the Colonel. 

The President rolled his cigar about in his mouth. 

“What is that?” he said abruptly. 

“ Pardon me,” returned the Colonel, “ but I believe 
you are the person best qualified to give us information 
on that point.” 

“ I ? ” cried the President. “ A Suicide Club ? 
Come, come ! this is a frolic for.All Fools’ Day. I can 
make allowances for gentlemen who get merry in their 
liquor ; but let there be an end to this.” 

“ Call your Club what you will,” said the Colonel, 
“ you have some company behind these doors, and we 
insist on joining it.” 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


17 


“ Sir,” returned the President, curtly, “ you have 
made a mistake. This is a private house, and you 
must leave it instantly.” 

The Prince had remained quietly in his seat through- 
out this little colloquy; but now, when the Colonel 
looked over to him, as much as to say, “ Take your 
answer and come away, for God’s sake! ” he drew his 
cheroot from his mouth, and spoke — 

“ I have come here,” said he, “ upon the invitation 
of a friend of yours. He has doubtless informed you 
of my intention in thus intruding on your party. Let 
me remind you that a person in my circumstances has 
exceedingly little to bind him, and is not at all likely 
to tolerate much rudeness. I am a very quiet man, as 
a usual thing; but, my dear sir, you are either going to 
oblige me in the little matter of which you are aware, 
or you shall very bitterly repent that you ever admitted 
me to your ante-chamber.” 

The President laughed aloud. 

“ That is the way to speak,” said he. '‘You area 
man who is a man. You know the way to my heart, 
and can do what you like with me. Will you,” he 
continued, addressing Geraldine, “ will you step aside 
for a few minutes? I shall finish first with your com- 
panion, and some of the club’s formalities require to 
be fulfilled in private.” 

With these words he opened the door of a small 
closet, into which he shut the Colonel. 

“ I believe in you,” he said to Florizel, as soon as 
they were alone; “but are you sure of your friend ? ” 

“ Not so sure as I am of myself, though he has more 
cogent reasons,” answered Florizel, “ but sure enough 
to bring him here without alarm. He has had enough 
to cure the most tenacious man of life. He was cash- 
iered the other day for cheating at cards.” 

“ A good reason, I daresay,” replied the President; 

[ “ at least, we have another in the same case, and I feel 
1 sure of him. Have you also been in the Service, may 
I ask ? ” 


i8 


NE IV AEABIAiV NIGHTS. 


“I have,” was the reply; “but I was too lazy, I left 
it early.” 

“What is your reason for being tired of life ? ” pur- 
sued the President. 

“ The same, as near as I can make out,” answered 
the Prince; “unadulterated laziness.” * 

The President started. “ D n it,” said he, “ you 

must have something better than that.” 

“ I have no more money,” added Florizel. “ That is 
also a vexation, without doubt. It brings my sense of 
idleness to an acute point.” 

The President rolled his cigar round in his mouth 
for some seconds, directing his gaze straight into the 
eyes of this unusual neophyte; but the Prince sup- 
ported his scrutiny with unabashed good temper. 

“ If I had not a deal of experience,” said the Presi- 
dent at last, “ I should turn you off. But I know the 
world; and this much any way, that the most frivolous 
excuses for a suicide are often the toughest to stand 
by. And when I downright like a man, as I do you, 
sir, I would rather strain the regulation than deny him.” 

The Prince and the Colonel, one after the other, 
were subjected to a long and particular interrogatory: 
the Prince alone; but Geraldine in the presence of the 
Prince, so that the President might observe the coun- 
tenance of the one while the other was being warmly 
cross-examined. The result was satisfactory; and the 
President, after having booked a few details of each 
case, produced a form of oath to be accepted. Nothing 
could be conceived more passive than the obedience 
promised, or more stringent than the terms by which 
the juror bound himself. The man who forfeited a 
pledge so awful could scarcely have a rag of honor or 
any of the consolations of religion left to him. Flori- 
zel signed the document, but not without a shudder; 
the Colonel followed his example with an air of great 
depression. Then the President received the entry 
money; and without more ado, introduced the two 
friends into the smoking-room of the Suicide Club. 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


19 


The smoking-room of the Suicide Club was the 
same height as the cabinet into which it opened, but 
much larger, and papered from top to bottom with an 
imitation of oak wainscot. A large and cheerful fire 
and a number of gas-jets illuminated the company. 
The Prince and his follower made the number up to 
eighteen. Most of the party were smoking, and drink- 
ing champagne; a feverish hilarity reigned, with sudden 
and rather ghastly pauses. 

“Is this a full meeting ? ” asked the Prince. 

“ Middling,” said the President. “ By the way,” he 
added, “ if you have any money, it is usual to offer 
some champagne. It keeps up a good spirit, and is 
one of my own little perquisites.” 

“ Hammersmith,” said Florizel, “ I may leave the 
champagne to you.” 

And with that he turned away and began to go 
round among the guests. Accustomed to play the host 
in the highest circles, he charmed and dominated all 
whom he approached ; there was something at once 
winning and authoritative in his address ; and his 
extraordinary coolness gave him yet another distinc- 
tion in this half maniacal society. As he went from 
one to another he kept both his eyes and ears open, 
and soon began to gain a general idea of the people 
among whom he found himself. As in all other places 
of resort, one type predominated r-^eople in die prime 
of youth, with every show of intelligence and sensibil- 
ity in their appearance, but with little promise of 
strength or the quality that makes success. Few were 
much above thirty, and not a few were still in their 
teens^They stood, leaning on tables and shifting on 
their leet ; sometimes they smoked extraordinarily 
fast, and sometimes they let their cigars go out ; some 
talked well, but the conversation of others was plainly 
the result of nervous tension, and was equally without 
wit or purport. As each new bottle of champagne was 
opened, there was a manifest improvement in gaiety. 
Only two were seated — one in a chair in the recess of 


20 


A^£tV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


the window, with his head hanging and his hands 
plunged deep into liis trouser pockets, pale, visibly 
moist with perspiration, saying never a word, a very 
wreck of soul and body; the other sat on the divan 
close by the chimney, and attracted notice by a trench- 
ant dissimilarity from all the rest. He was probably 
upwards of forty, but he looked fully ten years older ; 
and Florizel thought he had never seen a man more 
naturally hideous, nor one more ravaged by disease 
and ruinous excitements. He was no more than skin 
and bone, was partly paralyzed, and wore spectacles 
of such unusual power, that his eyes appeared through 
the glasses greatly magnified and distorted in shape. 
Except the Prince and the President, he was the only 
person in the room who preserved the composure of 
ordinary life. 

There was little decency among the members of the 
club. Some boasted of the disgraceful actions, the 
consequences of which had reduced them to seek 
refuge in death ; and the others listened without dis- 
approval. There was a tacit understanding against 
moral judgments ; and whoever passed the club doors 
enjoyed already some of the immunities of the tomb. 
They drank to each other’s memories, and to those of 
notable suicides in the past. They compai'ed and 
developed their different views of death — some declar- 
ing that it was no more than blackness and cessation ; 
others full of a hope that that very night they should 
be scaling the stars and commercing with the mighty 
dead. 

“ To the eternal memory of Baron Trenck, the type 
of suicides ! ” cried one. “ He went out of a small 
cell into a smaller, that he might come forth again to^ 
freedom.” 

“ For my part,” said a second, “ I wish no more 
than a bandage for my eyes and cotton for my ears. 
Only they have no cotton thick enough in this 
world.” 

A third was for reading the mysteries of life in a 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


21 


future state ; and a.' fourth professed that he would 
never have joined the club, if he had not been induced 
to believe in Mr. Darwin. 

“ I could not bear,” said this remarkable suicide, 
“ to be descended from an ape.” 

Altogether, the Prince was disappointed by the bear- 
ing and conversation of the members. 

“ It does not seem to me,” he thought, “a matter for 
so much disturbance. If a man has made up his mind 
to kill himself, let him do it, in God’s name, like a 
gentleman. This flutter and big talk is out of place.” 

In the meanwhile Colonel Geraldine was a prey to 
the blackest apprehensions; the club and its. rules 
were still a mystery, and he looked round the room for 
some one who should be able to set his mind at rest. 
In this survey his eye lighted on the paralytic person 
with the strong spectacles ; and seeing him so exceed- 
ingly tranquil, he besought the President, who was 
going in and out of the room under a pressure of busi- 
ness, to present him to the gentleman on the divan. 

The functionary explained the needlessness of all 
such formalities within the club, but nevertheless pre- 
sented Mr. Hammersmith to Mr. Malthus. 

Mr. Malthus looked at the Colonel curiously, and 
then requested him to take a seat upon his right. 

“ You are a new comer,” he said, “ and wish infor- 
mation ? You have come to the proper source. It is 
two years since I first visited this charming club.” 

The Colonel breathed again. If Mr. Malthus had 
frequented the place for two years there could be lit- 
tle danger for the Prince in a single evening. But 
Geraldine was none the less astonished, and began to 
suspect a mystification. 

“ What ! ” cried he, “ two years ! I thought — but 
indeed I see I have been made the subject of a pleas- 
antry.” 

“ By no means,” replied Mr. Malthus mildly. “ My 
case is peculiar. I am not, properly speaking, a sui- 
cide at all; but, as it were, an honorary member. I 


22 


NJTJ}^ AI^ABIAiV NIGHTS. 


rarely visit the cluh twice in two months. My infir- 
mity and the kindness of the President have procured 
me these little immunities, for which besides I pay at 
an advanced rate. Even as it is my luck has been 
extraordinary.” 

“ I am afraid,” said the Colonel, “ that I must ask 
you to be more explicit. You must remember that I 
am still most imperfectly acquainted with the rules of 
the club.” 

“ An ordinary member who comes here in search of 
death like yourself,” replied the paralytic, “returns, 
every evening until fortune favors him. He can, even if 
he is penniless, get board and lodging from the Presi- 
dent: very fair, I believe, and clean, although, of course, 
not luxurious; that could hardly be, considering the 
exiguity (if I may so express myself) of the subscrip- 
tion. And then the President’s company is a delicacy 
in itself.” 

“ Indeed ! ” cried Geraldine, “ he had not greatly 
prepossessed me.” 

“Ah ! ” said Mr. Malthus, “ you do not know the 
man: the drollest fellow ! What stories ! What cyn-, 
icism ! Pie knows life to admiration and, between 
ourselves, is probably the most corrupt rogue in Christ- 
endom.” 

“ And he also,” asked the Colonel, “ is a perma- 
nency — like yourself, if I may say so without offence? ” 

“ Indeed, he is a permanency in a very different 
sense from me,” replied Mr. Malthus. “ I have been 
graciously spared, but I must go at last. Now he 
never plays. He shuffles and deals for the club, and 
makes the necessary arrangements. That man, my 
dear Mr. Hammersmith, is the very soul of ingenuity. 
For three years he has pursued in London his useful 
and, I think I may add, his artistic calling; and not so 
much as a whisper of suspicion has been once aroused. 
I believe him myself to be inspired. You doubtless 
remember the celebrated case, six months ago, of the 
gentleman who was accidentally poisoned in a chemist's 


23 


THE SUICIDE CLUB, • . 

shop ? That was one of the least rich, one of the least 
racy, of his notions; but then, how simple ! and how 
safe ! ” 

“You astound me,” said the Colonel. “Was that 

unfortunate gentleman one of the ” He was about 

to say “ victims;” but bethinking himself in time, he 
substituted — “ members of the club ? ” 

In the same flash of thought, it occurred to him that 
Mr. Malthus himself had not at all spoken in the tone 
of one who is in love with death; and he added hur- 
• riedly; 

“ But I perceive I am still in the dark. You speak 
of shuffling and dealing; pray for what end ? And 
since you seem rather unwilling to die than otherwise, 
I must own that I cannot conceive what brings you 
here at all.” 

“You say truly that you are in the dark,” replied 
Mr. Malthus with more animation. “Why, my dear 
sir, this club is the temple of intoxication. If my 
enfeebled health could support the excitement more 
often, you may depend upon it I should be more often 
here. It requires all the sense of duty engendered by 
a long habit of ill-health and careful regimen, to keep 
me from excess in this, which is, I may say, my last 
dissipation. I have tried them all, sir,” he went on, 
laying his hand on Geraldine’s arm, “ all without 
exception, and I declare to you, upon my honor, there 
is not one of them that has not been grossly and 
untruthfully overrated. People trifle with love. Now, 
I deny that love is a strong passion. Fear is the 
strong passion; it is with fear that you must trifle, if 
you wish to taste the intense joys of living. Envy 
me — envy me, sir,” he added with a chuckle, “ I am a 
coward ! ” 

Geraldine could scarcely repress a movement of 
repulsion for this deplorable wretch; but he com- 
manded himself with an effort, and continued his 
inquiries. 

“ How, sir,” he asked, “ is the excitement so art- 


24 * ^ NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 

fully prolonged ? and where is there any element of 
uncertainty ? ” 

“ I must tell you how the victim for every evening 
is selected,” returned Mr. Malthus; “and not only the 
victim, but another member, who is to be the instru- 
ment in the club’s hands, and death’s high priest for 
that occasion.” 

“ Good God ! ” said the Colonel, “ do they then 
kill each other ? ” 

“ The trouble of suicide is removed in that way,” 
returned Malthus with a nod. 

“ Merciful Heavens ! ” ejaculated the Colonel, “ and 
may you — may I — may the — my friend, I mean — may 
any of us be pitched upon this evening as the slayer of 
another man’s body and immortal spirit? Can such 
things be possible among men born of women ? Oh ! 
infamy of infamies ! ” 

He was about to rise in his horror, when he caught 
the Prince’s eye. It was fixed upon him from across 
the room with a frowning and angry stare. And in a 
moment Geraldine recovered his composure. 

“ After all,” he added, “ why not ? And since you 
say the game is interesting, vogue la galore — I follow 
the club ! ” 

Mr. Malthus had keenly enjoyed the Colonel’s 
amazement and disgust. He had the vanity of wick- 
edness; and it pleased liim to see another man give 
way to a generous movement, while he felt himself, in 
his entire corruption, superior to such emotions. 

“You now, after your first moment of surprise,” 
said he, “ are in a position to appreciate the delights 
of our society. You can see how it combines the 
excitement of a gaming-table, a duel, and a Roman 
amphitheatre. The Pagans did well enough; I cordi- 
ally admire the refinement of their minds; but it has 
been reserved for a Christian country to attain this 
extreme, this quintessence, this absolute of poignancy. 
You will understand how vapid are all amusements to 
a man who has acquired a taste for this one. The 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


25 


game we play,” he continued, “ is one ot extreme 
simplicity. A full pack — but I perceive you are about 
to see the thing in progress. Will you lend me the 
help of your arm ? I am unfortunately paralyzed.” 

Indeed, just as Mr. Malthus was beginning his 
description, another pair of folding-doors was thrown 
open, and the whole club began to pass, not without 
some hurry, into the adjoining room. It was similar 
in every respect to the one from which it was entered, 
but somewhat differently furnished. The centre was 
occupied by a long green table, at which the President 
sat shuffling a pack of cards with great particularity. 
Even with the stick and the Colonel’s arm, Mr. Malthus 
walked with so much difficulty that everyone was 
seated before this pair and the Prince, w’ho had Avaited 
for them, entered the apartment; and, in consequence, 
the three took seats close together at the lower end of 
the board. 

“ It is a pack of fifty-two,” whispered Mr. Malthus. 
“Watch for the ace of spades, w'hich is the sign of 
death, and the ace of clubs, which designates the offi- 
cial of the night. Happy, happy young men ! ” he 
added. “ You have good eyes, and can follow the 
game. Alas ! I cannot tell an ace from a deuce across 
the table.” 

And he proceeded to equip himself with a second 
pair of spectacles. 

“ I must at least watch the faces,” he explained. 

The Colonel rapidly informed his friend of all that 
he had learned from the honorary member, and of the 
horrible alternative that lay before them. The Prince 
was conscious of a deadly chill and a contraction about 
his heart; he sw'allowed with difficulty, and looked 
from side to side like a man in a maze. 

“ One bold stroke,” whispered the Colonel, “ and we 
may still escape.” 

But the suggestion recalled the Prince’s spirits. 

“ Silence ! ” said he. “ Let me see that you can 
play like a gentleman for any stake, however serious.” 


26 


/\rEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


And he looked about him, once more to all appear- 
ance at his ease, although his heart beat thickly, and 
he was conscious of an unpleasant heat in his bosom. 
The members were all very quiet and intent; everyone 
was pale, but none so pale as Mr. Malthus. His eyes 
protruded; his head kept nodding involuntarily upon 
his spine; his hands found their way, one after the 
other, to his mouth, where they made clutches at his 
tremulous and ashen lips. It was plain that the hon- 
orary member enjoyed his membership on very start- 
ling terms. 

“ Attention, gentlemen ! ” said the President. 

And he began slowly dealing the cards about the 
table in the reverse direction, pausing until each man 
had shown his card. Nearly everyone hesitated; and 
sometimes you would see a player’s fingers stumble 
more than once before he could turn over the momen- 
tous slip of pasteboard. As the Prince’s turn drew 
nearer, he was conscious of a growing and almost suf- 
focating excitement; but he had somewhat of the 
gambler’s nature, and recognized almost with astonish- 
ment that there w'as a degree of pleasure in his sensa- 
tions. The nine of clubs fell to his lot; the three of 
spades was dealt to Geraldine; and the queen of hearts 
to Mr. Malthus, who was unable to suppress a sob of 
relief. The young man of the cream tarts almost 
immediately afterwards turned over the ace of clubs, 
and remained frozen with horror, the card still resting 
on his finger; he had not come there to kill, but to be 
killed; and the Prince, in his generous sympathy with 
his position, almost forgot the peril that still hung over 
himself and his friend. 

The deal was coming round again, and still Death’s 
card had not come out. The players held their respi- 
ration, and only breathed by gasps. The Prince 
received another club; Geraldine had a diamond; but 
when Mr. Malthus turned up his card a horrible noise, 
like that of something breaking, issued from his 
mouth; and he rose from his seat and sat down again, 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


27 


with no sign of his paralysis. It was the ace of spades. 
The honorary member had trifled once too often with 
his terrors. 

Conversation broke out again almost at once. The 
players relaxed their rigid attitudes, and began to rise 
from the table and stroll back by twos and threes into 
the smoking-room. The President stretched his arms 
and yawned, like a man who had finished his day’s 
work. But Mr. Malthus sat in his place, with his head 
in his hands, and his hands upon the table, drunk and 
motionless — a thing stricken down. 

The Prince and Geraldine made their escape at once. 
In the cold night air their horror of what they had 
witnessed was redoubled. 

“ Alas ! ” cried the Prince, “ to be bound by an oath 
in such a matter ! to allow this wholesale trade in 
murder to be continued with profit and impunity ! If 
I but dared to forfeit my pledge ! ” 

“ That is impossible for your Highness,” replied the 
Colonel, whose honor is the honor of Bohemia. “ But 
I dare, and may with propriety, forfeit mine.” , 

“ Geraldine,” said the Prince, “ if your honor suffers 
in any of the adventures into which you follow me, 
not only will I never pardon you, but — what I believe 
will much more sensibly affect you — I should never 
forgive myself.” 

” I receive your Highness’s commands,” replied 
the Colonel. “ Shall -we go from this accursed spot ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the Prince. “ Call a cab in Heaven’s 
name, and let me try to forget in slumber the memory 
of this night’s disgrace.” 

But it was notable that he carefully read the name 
of the court before he left it. 

The next morning, as soon as the Prince was stirring, 
Colonel Geraldine brought him a daily newspaper, 
with the following paragraph marked : — 

“Melancholy Accident. — This morning, about 
two o’clock, Mr. Bartholomew Malthus, of 16 Chep- 
stow Place, Westbourne Grove, on his way home from 


28 


N£W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


a party at a friend’s house, fell over the upper parapet 
in Trafalgar Square, fracturing his skull and breaking 
a leg and an arm. Death was instantaneous. Mr. 
Malthus, accompanied by a friend, was engaged in 
looking for a cab at the time of the unfortunate occur- 
rence. As Mr, Malthus was paralytic, it is thought 
that his fall may have been occasioned by another 
seizure. The unhappy gentleman was well known in 
the most respectable circles, and his loss will be widely 
and deeply deplored.” 

“ If ever a soul went straight to Hell,” said Geral- 
dine solemnly, “ it was that paralytic man’s.” 

The Prince buried his face in his hands, and remained 
silent. 

“ I am almost rejoiced,” continued the Colonel, 
“to know that he is dead. But for our young man of 
the cream tarts I confess my heart bleeds.” 

“ Geraldine,” said the Prince, raising his face, “ that 
unhappy lad was last night as innocent as you and I; 
and this morning the guilt of blood is on his soul. 
When I think of the President, my heart grows sick 
within me. I do not know how it shall be done, but I 
shall have that scoundrel at my mercy as there is a God 
in heaven. What an experience, what a lesson, was 
that game of cards ! ” 

“One,” said the Colonel, “never to be repeated.” 

The Prince remained so long without replying, that 
Geraldine grew alarmed. 

“You cannot mean to return,” he said. “You have 
suffered too much and seen too much horror already. 
The duties of your high position forbid the repetition 
of the hazard.” 

“ There is much in what you say,” replied Prince 
Florizel, “ and I am not altogether pleased with my 
own determination*. Alas ! in the clothes of the 
greatest potentate, what is there but a man ? I never 
felt my weakness more acutely than now, Geraldine, 
but it is stronger than‘T. Can I cease to interest 
myself in the fortunes of the unhappy young man who 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


29 


supped with us some hours ago ? Can I leave the 
President to follow his nefarious career unwatched ? 
Can I begin an adventure so entrancing, and not follow 
it to an end ? No, Geraldine ; you ask of the Prince 
more than the man is able to perform. To-night, once 
more, we take our places at the table of the Suicide 
Club.” 

Colonel Geraldine fell upon his knees. 

“ Will your Highness take my life ? ” he cried. “ It 
is his — his freely ; but do not, O do not ! let him ask 
me to countenance so terrible a risk.” 

“ Colonel Geraldine,” replied the Prince, with some 
haughtiness of manner, “ your life is absolutely your 
own. I only looked for obedience ; and when that is 
unwillingly rendered, I shall look for that no longer. 
I add one word : your importunity in this affair has 
been sufficient.” 

The Master of the Horse regained his feet at once. 
“ Your Highness,” he said, “ may I be excused in 
my attendance this afternoon ? I dare not, as an 
honorable man, venture a second time into that fatal 
house until I have perfectly ordered my affairs. Your 
Highness shall meet, I promise him, with no more 
opposition from the most devoted and grateful of his 
servants.” 

” My dear Geraldine,” returned Prince Florizel, “ I 
always regret when you oblige me to remember my 
rank. Dispose of your day as you think fit, but be 
here before eleven in the same disguise.” 

The club, on this second evening, was not so fully 
attended ; and when Geraldine and the Prince arrived, 
there were not above half-a-dozen persons in the smok- 
ing room. His Highness took the President aside and 
congratulated him warmly on the demise of Mr. Mal- 
thus. 

“ I like,” he said, “’to meet with capacity, and cer- 
tainly find much of it in you. Your profession is of a 
very delicate nature, but I see you are well qualified 
to conduct it with success and secrecy.” 


30 


NE W ARABIAN’ NIGHTS. 


The President was somewliat affected by these com- 
pliments from one of his Highness’s superior bearing. 
He acknowledged them almost-with humility. 

“ Poor Malthy !” he added, “I shall hardly know 
the club without him. The most of my patrons are 
boys, sir, and poetical boys, who are not much com- 
pany for me. Not but what Malthy had some poetry, 
too ; but it was of a kind that I could understand.” 

“ I can readily imagine you should find yourself in 
sympathy with Mr. Mai thus,” returned the Prince. 
“ He struck me as a man of a very original disposi- 
tion.” 

The young man of the cream tarts was in the room, 
but painfully depressed and silent. His late com- 
panions sought in vain to lead him into conversation. 

“ How bitterly I wish,” he cried, ‘‘ that I had never 
brought you to this infamous abode ! Begone, while 
you are clean-handed. If you could have heard the 
old man scream as he fell, and the noise of his bones 
upon the pavement ! Wish me, if you have any kind- 
ness to so fallen a being — wish the ace of spades for 
me to-night ! ” 

. A few more members dropped in as the evening 
went on, but the club did not muster more than the 
devil’s dozen when they took their places at the table. 
'I'he Prince was again conscious of a certain joy in his 
alarms ; but he was astonished to see Geraldine so 
much more self-possessed than on the night. before. 

“ It is extraordinary,” thought the Prince, “ that a 
will, made or unmade, should so greatly influence a 
young man’s spirit.” 

“ Attention, gentlemen !” said the President, and he 
began to deal. 

Three times the cards went all round the table, and 
neither of the marked cards had yet fallen from his 
hand. The excitement as he began the fourth dis- 
tribution was overwhelming. There were just cards 
enough to go once more entirely round. The Prince, 
who sat second from the dealer’s left, would receive. 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


in the reverse mode of dealing practiced at the club, 
the second last card. The third player turned up a 
black ace — it was the ace of clubs. The next received 
a diamond, the next a heart, and so on ; but the ace of 
spades was still undelivered. At last Geraldine, who 
sat upon the Prince’s left, turned his card ; it was an 
ace, but the ace of hearts. 

When Prince Florizel saw his fate upon the table in 
front of him, his heart stood still. He was a brave 
man, but the sweat poured off his face. There were 
exactly fifty chances out of a hundred that he was 
doomed. He reversed the card ; it was the ace of 
spades. A loud roaring filled his brain, and the table 
swam before his eyes. He heard the player on his 
right break into a fit of laughter that sounded between 
mirth and disappointment ; he saw the company 
rapidly dispersing, but his mind was full of other 
thoughts. He recognized how foolish, how criminal, 
had been his conduct. In perfect health, in the prime 
of his years, the heir to a throne, he had gambled 
away his future and that of a brave and loyal country. 
“God,” he cried, “ God forgive me !” And with that, 
the confusion of his senses passed away, and he 
regained his self-possession in a moment. 

To his surprise Geraldine had disappeared. There 
was no one in the card-room but his destined butcher 
consulting with the President, and the young man of 
the cream tarts, who slipped up to the Prince and 
whispered in his ear : 

“ I would give a million, if I had it, for your luck.” 

His Highness could not help reflecting, as the 
young man departed, that he would have sold his 
opportunity for a much more moderate sum. 

The whispered conference now came to an end. 
The holder of the ace of clubs left the room with a 
look of intelligence, and the President, approaching 
the unfortunate Prince, proffered him his hand. 

“I am pleased to have met you, sir/’ said he, “and 
pleased to have been in a position to do you this tri- 


NE W ARABIAN NIGl/TS. 


iling service. At least, you cannot complain of delay. 
On the second evening — what a stroke of luck !” 

The Prince endeavored in vain to articulate some- 
thing in response, but his mouth was dry and his 
tongue seemed paralyzed. 

“You feel a little sickish ?” asked the President, 
with some show of solicitude. “ Most gentlemen do. 
Will you take a little brandy ?’’ 

The Prince signified in the affirmative, and the other 
immediately filled some of the spirit into a tumbler, 

“ Poor old Malthy !” ejaculated the President, as 
the Prince drained the glass. “ He drank near upon 
a pint, and little enough good it seemed to do him !” 

“ I am more amenable to treatment,” said the Prince, a 
good deal revived. “ I am my own man again at 
once, as you perceive. And so, let me ask you, what 
are my directions ?” 

“You will proceed along the Strand in the direction 
of the City, and on the left-hand pavement, until you 
meet the gentleman who has just left the room. He 
will continue your instructions, and him you will have 
the kindness to obey ; the authority of the club is 
vested in his person for the night. And now,” added 
the President, “ I wish you a pleasant walk.” 

Florizel acknowledged the salutation rather awk- 
wardly, and took his leave. He passed through the 
smoking-room, where the bulk of the players were 
still consuming champagne, some of which he had him- 
self ordered and paid for ; and he was surprised to find 
himsilf cursing them in his heart. He put on his hat and 
great coat in the cabinet, and selected his umbrella from 
a corner. Thefamiliarity of these acts, and the thought 
that he was about them for the last time, betrayed him 
into a fit of laughter which sounded unpleasantly in 
his own ears. He conceived a reluctance to leave the 
cabinet, and turned instead to the window. The sight 
of the lamps and the darkness recalled him to himself. 

“Come, come^ I must be a man,” he thought, “and 
tear myself away.” 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


33 


At the corner of Box Court three men fell upon 
Prince Florizel and he was unceremoniously thrust into 
a carriage, which at once drove rapidly away. There 
was already an occupant. 

“ Will your Highness pardon my zeal ?” said a well- 
known voice. 

The Prince threw himself upon the Colonel’s neck in 
a passion of relief. 

“ How can I ever thank you ?” he cried. “ And how 
was this effected ?” 

Although he had been willing to march upon his 
doom, he was overjoyed to yield to friendly violence, 
and return once more to life and hope. 

“ You can thank me effectually enough,” replied the 
Colonel, “ by avoiding all such dangers in the future. 
And as for your second question, all has been managed 
by the simplest means. I arranged this afternoon with 
a celebrated detective. Secrecy has been promised 
and paid for. Your own servants have been princi- 
pally engaged in the affair. The house in Box Court 
has been surrounded since nightfall, and this, which is 
one of your own carriages, has been awaiting you for 
nearly an hour.” 

“ And the miserable creature who was to have slain 
me — what of him ?” inquired the Prince. 

“ He was pinioned as he left the club,” replied the 
Colonel, “ and now awaits your sentence at the Palace, 
where he will soon be joined by his accomplices. ” 

“ Geraldine,” said the Prince, “ you have saved me 
against my explicit orders, and you have done wdl. I 
owe you not only my life, but a lesson ; and I should 
be unworthy of my rank if I did not show myself grate- 
ful to my teacher. Let it be yours to choose the man- 
ner.” 

There was a pause, during which the carriage con- 
tinued to speed through the streets, and the two men 
were each buried in his own reflections. The silence 
was broken by Colonel Geraldine. 

” Your Highness,” said he, “ has by this time a 


34 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


considerable body of prisoners. There is at least one 
criminal among the number to whom justice should be 
dealt. Our oath forbids us all recourse to law ; and 
discretion would forbid it equally if the oath were 
loosened. May I inquire your Highness’s intention ?” 

“ It is decided/’ answered Florizel ; “ the President 
must fall in duel. It only remains to choose his adver- 
sary.” 

“ Your Highness has permitted me to name my own 
recompense,” said the Colonel. “ Will he permit me 
to ask the appointment of my brother ? It is an 
honorable post, but I dare assure your Highness that 
the lad will acquit himself with credit.” 

‘‘ You ask me an ungracious favor,” said the Prince, 
“but I must refuse you nothing.” 

The Colonel kissed his hand with the greatest affec- 
tion ; and at that moment the carriage rolled under the 
archway of the Prince’s splendid residence. 

An hour after, Florizel in his official robes, and 
covered with all the orders of Bohemia, received the 
members of the Suicide Club. , 

“Foolish and wicked men,” saidJie, “as many of 
you as have been driven into this strait by the lack of 
fortune shall receive employment and remuneration 
from my officers. Those who suffer under a sense of 
guilt must have recourse to a higher and more gener- 
ous Potentate than I. I feel pity for all of you, deeper 
than you can imagine ; to-morrow you shall tell me 
your stories ; and as you answer more frankly, I shall 
be the more able to remedy your misfortunes. As for 
you,” he added, turning to the President, “ I should 
only offend a person of your parts by any offer of assis- 
tance ; but I have instead a piece of diversion to pro- 
pose to you. Here,” laying his hand on the shoulder 
of Colonel Geraldine’s young brother, “is an officer of 
mine who desires to make a little tour upon the Con- 
tinent ; and I ask you, as a favor, to accompany him 
on this excursion. Do you,” he went on, changing his 
tone, “ do you shoot well with the pistol ? Because 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


35 


you may have need of that accomplishment. When two 
men go traveling together, it is best to be prepared for 
all. Let me add that, if by any chance you should 
lose young Mr. Geraldine upon the way, I shall always 
have another member of my household to place at 
your disposal; and I am known, Mr. President, to have 
long eyesight, and as long an arm.” 

With these words, said with much sternness, the 
Prince concluded his address. Next morning the 
members of the club were suitably provided for by his 
munificence, and the President set forth upon his 
travels, under the supervision of Mr. Geraldine, and a 
pair of faithful and adroit lackeys, well trained in the 
Prince’s household. Not content with this, discreet 
agents were put in possession of the house of Box 
Court, and all letters of visitors for the Suicide Club or 
its officials were to be examined by Prince Florizel in 
person. 

Here (says my Arabian authdf) endsTn^ Story of 
THE Young Man with "the Cream Tarts, who is 
now a comfortable liouseholder in Wigmore Street, Caven- 
dish Square. The nmnber, for obvious reasons, I sup- 
press. Those who care to pursue the adventures of 
Prince Florizel and the President of the Suicide Club, 
may read the History of the Physician and the 
Saratoga Trunk. 


STOR Y OF THE PHYSICIAN AND THE 
SARATOGA TRUNK. 


Mr. Silas Q. Scuddamore was a young American of 
a simple and harmless disposition, which was the more 
to his credit as he came from New England — a quarter 
of the New World not precisely famous for those qual- 
ities. Although he was exceedingly rich, he kept a 
note of all his expenses in a little paper pocket-book ; 
and he had chosen to study the attractions of Paris 
from the seventh story of what is called a furnished 
hotel, in the Latin Quarter. There was a great deal 
of habit in his penuriousness ; and his virtue, which 
was very remarkable among his associates, was princi- 
pally founded upon diffidence and youth. 

The next room to his was inhabited by a lady, very 
attractive in her air and very elegant in toilette, whom, 
on his first arrival, he had taken for a Countess. In 
course of time he had learned that she was known by 
the name of Madame Z^phyrine, and that whatever 
station she occupied in life it was not that of a person 
of title. Madame Zephyrine, probably in the hope of 
enchanting the young American, used to flaunt by him 
on the stairs with a civil inclination, a word of course, 
and a knock-down look out of her black eyes, and 
disappear in a rustle of silk, and with the revelation of 
an admirable foot and ankle. But these advances, so 
far from encouraging Mr. Scuddamore, plunged him 
into the depths of depression and bashfulness. She 
had come to him several times for a light, or to apolo- 
gize for the imaginary depredations of her poodle ; but 
his mouth was closed in the presence of so superior a 
being, hi« French promptly left him, and he could 
only stare and stammer until she was gone. The slen- 
derness of their intercourse did not prevent him from 

36 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


throwing out insinuations of a very glorious order 
when he was safely alone with a few' males. 

The room on the other side of the American’s — for 
there were three rooms on a floor in the hotel — was ten- 
anted by an old English physician of rather doubtful 
reputation. Dr. Noel, for that was his name, had been 
forced to leave London, where he enjoyed a large and 
increasing practice ; and it was hinted that the police 
had been the instigators of this change of scene. At 
least he, who had made something of a figure in earliei 
life, now dwelt in the Latin Quarter in great simplicity 
and solitude, and devoted much of his time to study. 
Mr. Scuddamore had made his acquaintance, and the 
pair would now and then dine together frugally in a 
restaurant across the street. 

Silas Q. Scuddamore had many little vices of the 
more respectable order, and was not restrained by deli- 
cacy from indulging theni in many rather doubtful 
ways. Chief among his foibles stood curiosity. He 
was a born gossip ; and life, and especially those parts 
of it in which he had no experience, interested him to 
the degree of passion. He was a pert, invincible ques- 
tioner, pushing his inquiries with equal pertinacity and 
indiscretion ; he had been observed, when he took a 
letter to the post, to weigh it in his hand, to turn it 
over and over, and to study the address with care ; 
and when he found a flaw in the partition between his 
room and Madame Z^phyrine’s, instead of filling it up, 
he enlarged and improved the opening, and made use 
of it as a spy-hole on his neighbor's affairs. 

One day, in the end of March, his curiosity growing 
as it was indulged, he enlarged the hole a little further, 
so that he might command another corner of the room. 
That evening, when he went as usual to inspect Madame 
Zephyrine’s movements, he was astonished to find the 
aperture obscured in an odd manner on the other side, 
and still more abashed when the obstacle was suddenly 
withdrawn and a titter of laughter reached his ears. 
Some of the plaster had evidently betrayed the secret 


38 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 




of his spy-hole, and his neighbor had been returning 
the compliment in kind. Mr, Scuddamore was moved 
to a very acute feeling of annoyance ; he condemned 
Madame Zephyrine unmercifully ; he even blamed 
himself ; but when he found, next day, that she had 
taken no means to baulk him of his favorite pastime, 
he continued to profit by her carelessness, and gratify 
his idle curiosity. 

That next day Madame Zephyrine received a long 
visit from a tall, loosely-built man of fifty or upwards, 
whom Silas had not hitherto seen. His tweed suit and 
colored shirt, no less than his shaggy side-whiskers, 
identified him as a Britisher, and his dull gray eye 
affected Silas with a sense of cold. He kept screwing 
his mouth from side to side and round and round 
during the whole colloquy, which was carried on in 
whispers. More than once it seemed to the young New 
Englander as if their gestures indicated his own apart- 
ment ; but the only thing definite he* could gather by 
the most scrupulous attention was this remark made 
by the Englishman in a somewhat higher key, as if in 
answer to some reluctance or opposition. 

“ I have studied his taste to a nicety, and I tell you 
again and again you are the only woman of the sort 
that I can lay my hands on.” 

In answer to this, Madame Zephyrine sighed, and 
appeared by a gesture to resign herself, like one yield- 
ing to unqualified authority. 

That afternoon the observatory was finally blinded, 
a wardrobe having been drawn in front of it upon the 
other side , and while Silas was still lamenting over 
this misfortune, which he attributed to the Britisher’s 
malign suggestion, the concierge brought him up a let- 
ter in a female handwriting. It was conceived in 
French of no very rigorous orthography, bore no signa- 
ture, and in the most encouraging terms invited the 
young American to be present in a certain part of the 
Bullier Ball at eleven o’clock that night. Curiosity 
and timidity fought a long battle in his heart ; some- 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


39 


times he was all virtue, sometimes all fire and daring ; 
and the result of it was that, long before ten, Mr. Silas 
Q. Scuddamore presented himself in unimpeachable 
attire at the door of the Bullier Ball Rooms, and paid 
his entry money with a sense of reckless deviltry that 
was not without its charm. 

It was Carnival time, and the Ball was very full and 
noisy. The lights and the crowd at first rather abashed 
our young adventurer, and then, mounting to his brain 
with a sort of intoxication, put him in possession of more 
than his own share of manhood. He felt ready to face 
the devil, and strutted in the ballroom with the swag- 
ger of a cavalier. While he was thus parading, he 
became aware of Madame Zephyrine and her Britisher 
in conference behind a pillar. The cat-like spirit of 
eaves-dropping overcame him at once. He stole nearer 
and nearer on the couple from behind, until he was 
within earshot. 

“ That is the man,” the Britisher was saying ; “ there 
— with the long blond hair — speaking to a girl in 
green.” 

Silas identified a very handsome young fellow of 
small stature, who was plainly the object of this desig- 
nation. 

“ It is well,” said Madame Zephyrine. “ I shall do 
my utmost. But, remember, the best of us may fail in 
such a matter.” 

“Tut!” returned her companion; “I answer for 
the result. Have I not chosen you from thirty ? Go ; 
but be wary of the Prince. I cannot think what cursed 
accident has brought him here to-night. As if there 
were not a dozen balls in Paris better worth his notice 
than this riot of students and counter-jumpers ! See 
him where he sits, more like a reigning Emperor at 
home than a Prince upon his holidays ! ” 

Silas was again lucky. He observed a person of 
rather a full build, strikingly handsome, and of a very 
stately and courteous demeanor, seated at table with 
another handsome young man, several years his junior, 


40 


JVjEJV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


'who addressed him with conspicuous deference. The 
name of Prince struck gratefully on Silas’s Republican 
hearing, and the aspect of the person to whom that 
name was applied exercised its usual charm upon his 
mind. He left Madame Zephyrine and her English- 
man to take care of each other, and threading his way 
through the assembly, approached the table which the 
Prince and his confidant had honored with their choice. 

“ I tell yow, Geraldine,” the former was saying, “ the 
action is madness. Yourself (I am glad to remember 
it) chose your brother for this perilous service, and you 
are bound in duty to have a guard upon his conduct. 
He has consented to delay so many days in Paris; that 
was already an imprudence, considering the character 
of the man he has to deal with ; but now, when he is 
within eight and forty hours of his departure, when he 
is within two or three days of the decisive trial, I ask 
you, is this a place for him to spend his time ? He 
should be in a gallery at practice ; he should be sleep- 
ing long hours and taking moderate exercise on foot ; 
he should be on a rigorous diet, without white wines 
or brandy. Does the dog imagine we are all playing 
comedy ? The thing is deadly earnest, Geraldine.” 

“ I know the lad too well to interfere,” replied Colonel 
Geraldine, “ and well enough not to be alarmed. He 
is more cautious than you fancy, and of an indomit- 
able spirit. If it had been a woman I should not say 
so much, but I trust the President to him and the two 
valets without an instant’s apprehension.” 

“ I am gratified to hear you say so,” replied the 
Prince ; “but my mind is not at rest. These servants 
are well-trained spies, and already has not this mis- 
creant succeeded three times in eluding their observa- 
tion and spending several hours on end in private, and 
most likely dangerous, affairs ? An amateur might 
have lost him by accident, but if Rudolph and Jerome 
were thrown off the scent, it must have been done on 
purpose, and by a man who had a cogent reason and 
exceptional resources.” 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


41 


“ I believe the question is now one between my 
brother and myself,” replied Geraldine, with a shade 
of offense in his tone. 

“ I permit it to be so. Colonel Geraldine,” returned 
Prince Florizel. “ Perhaps, for that very reason, you 
should be all the more ready to accept my counsels. 
But enough. That girl in yellow dances well.” 

And the talk veered into the ordinary topics of a 
Paris ballroom in the Carnival. 

Silas remembered where he was, and that the hour 
was already near at hand when he ought to be upon 
the scene of his assignation. The more he reflected 
the less he liked the prospect, and as at that moment 
an eddy in the crowd began to draw him in the direc- 
tion of the door, he suffered it to carry him away 
without resistance. The eddy stranded him in a cor- 
ner under the gallery, where his ear was immediately 
struck with the voice of Madame Zephyrine. She 
was speaking in French with the young man of the 
blond locks who had been pointed out by the strange 
Britisher not half an hour before. 

“ I have a character at stake,” she said, ‘‘or I would 
put no other condition than my heart recommends. 
But you have only to say so much to the porter, and 
he will let you go by without a word.” 

“ But why this talk of debt ?” objected her companion. 

“Heavens!” said she, “do you think I do not 
understand my own hotel ? ” 

And she went by, clinging affectionately to her 
companion’s arm. 

This put Silas in mind of his billet. 

“ Ten minutes hence,” thought he, “and I may be 
walking with as beautiful a woman as that; and even 
better dressed — perhaps a real lady, possibly a woman 
of title.” 

And then he remembered the spelling, and was a 
little downcast. 

“ But it may have been written by her maid,” h? 
imagined. 


42 


.VffPV ARAB-IAN NIGHTS. 


The clock was only a few minutes from the hour, 
and this immediate proximity set his heart beating at 
a curious and rather disagreeable speed. He reflected 
with relief that he was in no way bound to put in an 
appearance. Virtue and cowardice were together, and 
he made once more for the door, but this time of his 
own accord, and battling against the stream of people 
which was now moving in a contrary direction. Per- 
haps this prolonged resistance wearied him, or perhaps 
he was in that frame of mind when merely to continue 
in the same determination for a certain number of 
minutes produces a reaction and a different purpose. 
Certainly, at least, he wheeled about for a third time, 
and did not stop until he had found a place of con- 
cealment within a few yards of the appointed place. 

Here he went through an agony of spirit, in which 
he several times prayed to God for help, for Silas had 
been devoutly educated. He had now not the least 
inclination for the meeting ; nothing kept him from 
flight but a silly fear lest he should be thought un- 
manly ; but this was so powerful that it kept head 
against all other motives; and although it could not 
decide him to advance, prevented him from definitely 
running away. At last the clock indicated ten min- 
utes past the hour. Young Scuddamore’s spirit began 
to rise; he peered round the corner and saw no one at 
the place of meeting; doubtless his unknown corre- 
spondent had wearied and gone away. He became as 
bold as he had formerly been timid. It seemed to him 
that if he came at all to the appointment, however 
late, he was clear from the charge of cowardice. Nay, 
now he began to suspect a hoax, and actually compli- 
mented himself on his shrewdness in having suspected 
and out-manoeuvred his mystifiers. So very idle a 
thing is a boy’s mind! 

Armed with these reflections, he advanced boldly 
from his corner; but he had not taken above a couple 
of steps before a hand was laid upon his arm. He 
turned and beheld a lady cast in a very large mould 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


43 


and with somewhat stately features, but bearing no 
mark of severity in her looks. 

“ I see that you are a very self-confident lady- 
killer,” said she; “for you make yourself expected. 
But I was determined to meet you. When a woman 
has once so far forgotten herself as to make the first 
advance, she has long ago left behind her all consid- 
erations of petty pride.” 

Silas was overwhelmed by the size and attractions 
of his correspondent and the suddenness with which 
she had fallen upon him. But she soon set him at his 
ease. She was very towardly and lenient in her beha- 
vior; she led him on to make pleasantries, and then 
applauded him to the echo; and in a very short time, 
between blandishments and a liberal exhibition of 
warm brandy, she had not only induced him to fancy 
himself in love, but to declare his passion with the 
greatest vehemence. 

“Alas!” she said; “I do not know whether I 
ought not to deplore this moment, great as is the 
pleasure you give me by your words. Hitherto I 
was alone to suffer; now, poor boy, there will be two. 
I am not my own mistress. I dare not ask you to 
visit me at my own house, for I am watched by jealous 
eyes. Let me see,” she added; “ I am older than you, 
although so much weaker; and while I trust in your 
courage and determination, I must employ my own 
knowledge of the world for our mutual benefit. Where 
do you live ? ” 

He told her that he lodged in a furnished hotel, and 
named the street and number. 

She seemed to reflect for some minutes, with an 
effort of mind. 

“I see,” she said at last. “You will be faithful and 
obedient, will you not?” 

Silas assured her eagerly of his fidelity. 

“To-morrow night, then,” she continued, with an 
encouraging smile, “ you must remain at home all the 
evening; and if any friends should visit you, dismiss 


44 


NEir ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


them at once on any pretext that most readily presents 
itself. Your door is probably shut by ten ? ” she asked. 

“ By eleven,” answered Silas. 

“At a quarter past eleven,” pursued the lady, “ leave 
the house. Merely cry for the door to be opened, and 
be sure you fall into no talk with the porter, as that 
might ruin everything. Go straight to the corner 
where the Luxembourg Gardens join the Boulevard; 
there you will find me waiting you. I trust you to fol- 
low my advice from point to point: and remember, if 
you fail me in only one particular, you Avill bring the 
sharpest trouble on a woman whose only fault is to 
have seen and loved you.” 

“ I cannot see the use of all these instructions,” 
said Silas. 

“ I believe you are already beginning to treat me as 
a master,” she cried, tapping him with her fan upon 
the arm. “ Patience, patience ! that should come in 
time. A woman loves to be obeyed at first, although 
afterwards she finds her pleasure in obeying. Do as I 
ask you, for Heaven’s sake, or I will answer for noth- 
ing. Indeed, now I think of it,” she added, with the 
manner of one who had just seen further into a diffi- 
culty, “ I find a better plan of keeping importunate 
visitors away. Tell the porter to admit no one for 
you, except a person who may come that night to 
claim a debt; and speak with some feeling, as though 
you feared the interview, so that he may take your 
words in earnest.” 

“ I think you may trust' me to protect myself against 
intruders,” he said, not without a little pique. 

“ That is how I should prefer the thing arranged,” 
she answered, coldly. “I know you men; you think 
nothing of a woman’s reputation.” 

Silas blushed and sornewhat hung his head; for the 
scheme he had in view had involved a little vain-glory- 
ing before his acquaintances. 

“Above all,” she added, “ do not speak to the por- 
ter as you come out.” 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


45 


“And why? “said he. “Of all your instructions, 
that seems to me the least important.” 

“ You at first doubted the wisdom of some of the 
others, which you now see to be very necessary,” she 
replied. “ Believe me, this also has its uses; in time 
you will see them; and what am I to think of your 
affection, if you refuse me such trifles at our first inter* 
view ? ” 

Silas confounded himself in explanations and apolo- 
gies; in the middle of these she looked up at the clock 
and clapped her hands together with a suppressed 
scream. 

“ Heavens ! ” she cried, “ is it so late ? I have not 
an instant to lose. Alas, we poor women, what slaves 
' we are ! What have I not risked for you already ? ” 

And after repeating her directions, which she art- 
fully combined with caresses and the most abandoned 
looks, she bade him farewell and disappeared among 
the crowd. 

The whole of the next day Silas was filled with a 
sense of great importance; he was now sure she was a 
countess; and when evening came he minutely obeyed 
her orders and was at the corner of the Luxembourg 
Gardens by the hour appointed. No one was there. 
He waited nearly half an hour, looking in the face of 
everyone who passed or loitered near the spot; he 
even visited the neighboring corners of the Boulevard 
and made a complete circuit of the garden railings; 
but there was no beautiful countess to throw herself 
into his arms. At last, and most reluctantly, he began 
to retrace his steps towards his hotel. On the way he 
remembered the words he had heard pass between 
Madame Zephyrine and the blond young man, and 
they gave him an indefinite uneasiness. 

“ It appears,” he reflected, “ that everyone has to 
tell lies to our porter.” 

He rang the bell, the door opened before him, 
and the porter in his bed-clothes came to offer him a 
light. 


46 


A'Eir ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ Has he gone ? ” inquired the porter. 

“ He ? Whom do you mean ? ” asked Silas, some- 
what sharply, for he was irritated by his disappoint- 
ment. 

“ I did not notice him go out,” continued the porter, 
“ but I trust you paid him. We do not care, in this 
house, to have lodgers who cannot meet their liabil- 
ities.” 

“ What the devil do you mean ? ” demanded Silas, 
rudely. “ I cannot understand a w’ord of this farrago.” 

“The short, blond young man who came for his 
debt,” returned the other. “ Him it is I mean. Who 
else should it be, when I had your orders to admit no 
one else ? ” 

“ Why, good God, of course he never came,” retorted 
Silas. 

“ I believe what I believe,” retorted the porter, 
putting his tongue into his cheek with a most roguish 
air. 

“ You are an insolent scoundrel,” cried Silas, and, 
feeling that he had made a ridiculous exhibition of 
asperity, and at the same time bewildered by a dozen 
alarms, he turned and began to run up stairs. 

“ Do you not want a light then ? ” cried the porter. 

But Silas only hurried the faster, and did not pause 
until he had reached the seventh landing and stood in 
front of his own door. There he w'aited a moment to 
recover his breath, assailed by the worst forebodings 
and almost dreading to enter the room. 

When at last he did so he was relieved to find it 
dark, and to all appearance, untenanted. He drew a 
long breath. Here he was, home again in safety, and 
this should be his last folly as certainly as it had been 
his first. The matches stood on a little table by the 
bed, and he began to grope his way in that direction. 
As he moved, his apprehensions grew upon him once 
more, and he was pleased, when his foot encountered 
an obstacle, to find it nothing more alarming than a 
chair. At last he touched curtains. From the posi- 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


47 


tion of the window, which was faintly visible, he knew 
he must be at the foot of the bed, and’had only to feel 
his way along it in order to reach the table in question. 

He lowered his hand, but what he touched was not 
simply a counterpane — it was a counterpane with 
something underneath it like the outline of a human 
leg. Silas withdrew his arm and stood a moment pet- 
rified. 

“What, what,” he thought, “can this betoken ?” 

He listened intently, but there was no sound of 
breathing. Once more, with a great effort, he reached 
out the end of his finger to the spot he had already 
touched ; but this time he leaped back half a yard, 
and stood shivering and fixed with terror. There was 
something in his bed. What it was he knew not, but 
there was something there. 

It was some seconds before he could move. Then, 
guided by an instinct, he fell straight upon the matches, 
and keeping his back toward the bed, lighted a candle. 
As soon as the flame had kindled, he turned slowly 
round and looked for what he feared to see. Sure 
enough, there was the worst of his imaginations real- 
ized. The coverlid was drawn carefully up over the 
pillow, but it moulded the outline of a human body 
lying motionless ; and when he dashed forward and 
flung aside the sheets, he beheld the blond young man 
whom he had seen in the Bullier Ball the night before, 
his eyes open and without speculation, his face swollen 
and blackened, and a thin stream of blood trickling 
from his nostrils. 

Silas uttered a long, tremulous wail, dropped the 
candle, and fell on his knees beside the bed. 

Silas was awakened from the stupor into which his 
terrible discovery had plunged him, by a prolonged 
but discreet tapping at the door. It took him some 
seconds to remember his position ; and when he has- 
tened to prevent anyone from entering it was already 
too late. Dr. Noel, in a tall nightcap, carrying a lamp 
which lighted up his long white countenance, sidling 


48 


J\r£:tv ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


in his gait, and peering and cocking his head like some 
sort of bird, ‘pushed the door slowly open, and 
advanced into the middle of the room. 

“ I thought I heard a cry,” began the Doctor, “ and 
fearing you might be unwell, I did not hesitate to 
offer this intrusion.” 

Silas, with a flushed face and a fearful beating heart, 
kept between the Doctor and the bed ; but he found 
no voice to answer. 

“You are in the dark,” pursued the Doctor ; “and 
yet you have not even begun to prepare for rest. You 
will not easily persuade me against my own eyesight ; 
and your face declares most eloquently that you 
require either a friend or a physician — which is it to 
be ? Let me feel your pulse, for that is often a just 
reporter of the heart.” 

He advanced to Silas, who still retreated before him 
backwards, and sought to take him by the wrist ? but 
the strain on the young American’s nerves had become 
too great for endurance. He avoided the Doctor with 
a febrile movement, and, throwing himself upon the 
floor, burst into a flood of weeping. 

As soon as Dr. Noel perceived the dead man in the 
bed his face darkened ; and hurrying back to the door 
which he had left ajar, he hastily closed and double- 
locked it. 

“ Up! ” he cried, addressing Silas in strident tones, 
“ This is no time for weeping. What have you done ? 
How came this body in your room ? Speak freely to 
one who may be helpful. Do you imagine I would 
ruin you ? Do you think this piece of dead flesh on 
your pillow can alter in any degree the sympathy with 
which you have inspired me ? Credulous youth, the 
horror with which blind and unjust law regards an 
action never attaches to the doer in the eyes of those 
who love him; and if I saw the friend of my heart 
return to me out of seas of blood he would be in no 
’way changed in my affection. Raise yourself,” he 
said; “good and ill are a chimera; there is naught in 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


49 


life except destiny, and however you may be circum- 
stanced there is one at your side who will help you to 
the last.” 

Thus encouraged, Silas gathered himself together, 
and in a broken voice, and helped out by the Doctor’s 
interrogations, contrived at last to put him in posses- 
sion of the facts. But the conversation between the 
Prince and Geraldine he altogether omitted, as he 
had understood little of its purport, and had no idea 
that it was in any way related to his own misadventure. 

“Alas! ’’cried Dr. Noel, “ I am much abused, or 
you have fallen innocently into the most dangerous 
hands in Europe. Poor boy, what a pit has. been dug 
for your simplicity ! into what a deadly peril have 
your unwary feet been conducted ! This man,” he 
said, “this Englishman, whom you twice saw, and 
whom I suspect to be the soul of the contrivance, can 
you describe him ? Was he young or old ? tall or 
short ? ” 

But Silas, who, for all his curiosity, had not a see- 
ing eye in his head, was able to supply nothing but 
meagre generalities, which it was impossible to recog- 
nize. 

“ I would have it a piece of education in all 
schools ! ” cried the Doctor angrily. “ Where is the 
use of eyesight and articulate speech if a man cannot 
observe and recollect the features of his enemy ? I, 
who know all the gangs of Europe, might have iden- 
tified him, and gained new weapons for' your defence. 
Cultivate this art in future, my poor boy; you may find 
it of momentous service.” 

“ The future ! ” repeated Silas. “ What future is 
there left for me except the gallows ? ” 

“ Youth is but a cowardly season,” returned the 
Doctor; “and a man’s own troubles look blacker than 
they are. I am old, and yet I never despair.” 

“ Can I tell such a story to the police ?” demanded 
Silas. 

“Assuredly not,” replied the Doctor. “From what 


50 


NElV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


I see already of the machination in which you have 
been involved, your case is desperate upon that side; 
and for the narrow eye of the authorities you are 
infallibly the guilty person. And remember that we 
only know a portion of the plot; and the same infa- 
mous contrivers have doubtless arranged many other 
circumstances which would be elicited by a police 
inquiry, and help to fix the guilt more certainly upon 
your innocence.” 

“ I am then lost, indeed ! ” cried Silas. 

“ I have not said so,” answered Dr. Noel, “ for I am 
a cautious man.” 

‘‘ But look at this !” objected Silas, pointing to the 
body. “ Here is this object in my bed: not to be 
explained, not to be disposed of, not to be regarded 
without horror.” 

“ Horror ? ” replied the Doctor. “ No. When this 
sort of clock has run down, it is no more to me than an 
ingenious piece of mechanism, to be investigated with the 
bistery. When blood is once cold and stagnant, it is 
no longer human blood; when flesh is once dead, it is 
no longer that flesh which w'e desire in our lovers and 
respect in our friends. The grace, the attraction, the 
terror, have all gone from it with the animating spirit. 
Accustom yourself to look upon it with composure; 
for if my scheme is practicable you will have to live 
in constant proximity to that which now so greatly 
horrifies you.” 

“ Your scheme ? ” cried Silas. “ What is that ? Tell 
me speedily, Doctor; for I have scarcely courage 
enough to continue to exist.” 

Without replying. Dr. Noel turned towards the bed, 
and proceeded to examine the corpse. 

“ Quite dead,” he murmured. “Yes, as I had sup- 
posed, the pockets empty. Yes, and the name cut off 
the shirt. Their work has been done thoroughly and 
well. Fortunately he is of small stature.” 

Silas followed these words with an extreme anxiety. 
At last the Doctor, his autopsy completed, took 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


51 


a chair and addressed the young American with a 
smile. 

“Since I came into your room,” said he, “although 
my ears and my tongue have been so busy, I have not 
suffered my eyes to remain idle. I noted a little while 
ago that you have there, in the corner, one of those mon- 
strous constructions which your fellow-countrymen 
carry with them into all quarters of the globe — in a 
word, a Saratoga trunk. Until this moment I have 
never been able to conceive the utility of these erec- 
tions; but then I began to have a glimmer. Whether 
it was for convenience in the slave trade, or to obviate 
the results of too ready an employment of the bowie- 
knife, I cannot bring myself to decide. But one thing 
I see plainly — the object of such a box is to contain a 
human body.” 

“ Surely,” cried Silas, “ surely this is not a time for 
jesting.” 

“ Although I may express myself with some degree 
of pleasantry,” replied the Doctor, “ the purport of 
my words is entirely serious. And the first thing we 
have to do, my young friend, is to empty your coffer 
of all it contains.” 

Silas, obeying the authority of Doctor Noel, put 
himself at his disposition. The Saratoga trunk was 
soon gutted of its contents, which made a considerable 
litter on the floor; and then — Silas taking the heels 
and the Doctor supporting the shoulders — the body of 
the murdered man was carried from the bed, and, 
after some difficulty, doubled up and inserted whole 
into the empty box. With an effort on the part of 
both, the lid was forced down upon this unusual bag- 
gage, and the trunk was locked and corded by the 
Doctor’s own hand, while Silas disposed of what had 
been taken out between the closet and a chest of 
drawers. 

“Now,” said the Doctor, “the first step has been 
taken on the way to your deliverance. To-morrow, 
or rather to-day, it must be your task to allay the sus- 


52 


NE W ARABIAN NlGIlTS. 


picions of your porter, paying him all that you owe; 
while you may trust me to make the arrangements nec- 
essary to a safe conclusion. Meantime, follow me to 
my room, where I shall give you a safe and powerful 
opiate; for, whatever you do, you must have rest.” 

The next day was the longest in Silas’s memory; it 
seemed as if it would never be done. He denied him- 
self to his friends, and sat in a corner with his eyes 
fixed upon the Saratoga trunk in dismal contempla- 
tion. His own former indiscretions were now returned 
upon him in kind; for the observatory had been once 
more opened, and he was conscious of an almost con- 
tinual study from Madame Zephyrine’s apartment. 
So distressing did this become, that he was at last 
obliged to block up the spy-hole from His own side; 
and when he was thus secured from observation he 
spent a considerable portion of his time in contrite 
tears and prayer. 

Late in the evening Dr. Noel entered the room car- 
rying in his hand a pair of sealed envelopes without 
address, one somewhat bulky, and the other so slim as 
to seem without enclosure. 

“Silas,” he said, seating himself at the table, “ the 
time has now come for me to explain my plan for 
your salvation. To-morrow morning, at an early hour. 
Prince Florizel of Bohemia returns to London, after 
having diverted himself for a few days with the 
Parisian Carnival. It was my fortune, a good while ago, 
to do Colonel Geraldine, his Master of the Horse, one 
of those services so common in my profession, which 
are never forgotten upon either side. I have no need 
to explain to you the nature of the obligation under 
which he was laid; suffice it to say that I knew him 
ready to serve me in any practicable manner. Now, it 
was necessary for you to gain London with your 
trunk unopened. To this the Custom House seemed 
to oppose a fatal difficulty; but I bethought me that 
the baggage of so considerable a person as the Prmce, 
is, as a matter of courtesy, passed without examina- 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


53 


tion by the officers of Custom. I applied to Colonel 
Geraldine, and succeeded in obtaining a favorable 
answer. To-morrow, if you go before six to the hotel 
where the Prince lodges, your baggage will be passed 
over as a part of his, and you yourself will make the 
journey as a member of his suite.” 

“ It seems to me, as you speak, that I have already 
seen both the Prince and Colonel Geraldine; I even 
overheard some of their conversation the other even- 
ing at the Bullier Ball.” 

“ It is probable enough; for the Prince loves to mix 
w'ith all societies,” replied the Doctor. “ Once arrived 
in London,” he pursued, “ your task is nearly ended. 
In this ihore bulky envelope I have given you a letter 
which I dare not address; but in the other you will 
find the designation of the house to which you must 
carry it along with your box, which will there be taken 
from you and not trouble you any more.” 

“Alas!” said Silas, “I have every wish to believe 
you; but how is it possible ? You open up to me a 
bright prospect, but, I ask you, is my mind capable of 
receiving so unlikely a solution ? Be more generous, 
and let me farther understand your meaning.” 

The Doctor seemed painfully impressed. 

“ Boy,” he answered, “you do not know how hard a 
thing you ask of me. But be it so. I am now inured 
to humiliation; and it would be strange if I refused 
you this, after having granted you so much. Know, 
then, that although I now make so quiet an appear- 
ance — frugal, solitary, addicted to study — when I was 
vounger, my name was once a rallying-cry among the 
most astute and dangerous spirits of London; and 
while I was outwardly an object for respect and con- 
sideration, my true power resided in the most secret, 
terrible, and criminal relations. It is one of the per- 
sons who then obeyed me that I now address myself 
to deliver you from your burden. They were men of 
many different nations and ’dexterities, all bound 
together by a formidable oath, and working to the 


54 


JVEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


same purposes; the trade of the association was in 
murder; and I who speak to you, innocent as I 
appear, was the chieftain of this redoubtable crew.” 

“ What ? ” cried Silas. “ A murderer ? And. one 
with whom murder was a trade ? Can I take your 
hand? Ought I to so much as accept your services 
Dark and criminal old man, would you make an accom^ 
plice of my youth and my distress ? ” 

The Doctor bitterly laughed. 

“ You are difficult to please, Mr. Scuddamore,” said 
he; “but I now offer you your choice of company 
between the murdered man and the murderer. If 
your conscience is too nice to accept my aid^ say so, 
and I will immediately leave you. Thenceforward 
you can deal with your trunk and its belongings as 
best suits your upright conscience.” 

“ I own myself wrong,” replied Silas. “ I should 
have remembered how generously you offered to shield 
me, even before I had convinced you of my inno- 
cence, and I continue to listen to your counsels with 
gratitude.” 

“ That is well,” returned the Doctor; “ and I per- 
ceive you are beginning to learn some of the lessons 
of experience.” 

“ At the same time,” resumed the New-Englander, 
“ as you confess yourself accustomed to this tragical 
business, and the people to whom you recommend me 
are your'own former associates and friends, could you 
not yourself undertake the transport of the box, and 
rid me at once of its detested presence ?” 

“Upon my word,” replied the Doctor, “I admire 
you cordially. If you do not think I have, already 
meddled sufficiently in your concerns, believe me, 
from my heart I think the contrary. Take or leave 
my services as I offer them; and trouble me with no 
more words of gratitude, for I value your consideration 
even more lightly than J do your intellect. A time 
will come, if you should'’'be spared to see a number of 
years in health and mind, when you will think differ- 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


55 


ently of all this, and blush for your to-night’s beha- 
vior.” 

^ So saying, the Doctor arose from his chair, repeated 
his directions briefly and clearly, and departed from 
the room without permitting Silas any time to answer. 

The next morning Silas presented himself at the 
hotel, where he was politely received by Colonel Ger- 
aldine, and relieved, from that moment, of all imme- 
diate alarm about his trunk and its grisly contents. 
The journey passed over without much incident, 
although the young man was horrified to overhear the 
sailors and railway porters complaining among them- 
selves about the unusual weight of the Prince’s bag- 
gage. Silas traveled in a carriage with the valets, for 
Prince Florizel chose to be alone with his Master of 
the Horse. On board the steamer, however, Silas 
attracted his Highness’s attention by the melancholy, 
of his air and attitude as he stood gazing at the pile of 
baggage; for he was still full of disquietude about the 
future. 

“ There is a young man,” observed the Prince, “ who 
must have some cause for sorrow.” 

“That,” replied Geraldine, “is the American for 
whom I obtained permission to travel with your suite.” 

“You remind me that I have been remiss in cour- 
tesy,” said Prince Florizel, and advancing to Silas, he 
addressed him with the most exquisite condescension 
in these words, 

“ I was charmed, young sir, to be able to gratify the 
desire you made known to me through Colonel Ger- 
aldine. Remember, if you please, that I shall be glad 
at any future time to jay you under a more serious 
obligation.” - 

And then he put some questions as to the political 
condition of America, which Silas answered with sense 
and propriety. 

“You are still a young man,”, said the Prince; “but 
I observe you to be very series for your years. Per- 
haps you allow your attention to be too much occu- 


56 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


pied with grave studies. But, perhaps, on the other 
hand, I am myself indiscreet and touch upon a pain- 
ful subject.” 

“ I have certainly cause to be the most miserable of 
men,” said Silas; “never has a more innocent person 
been more dismally abused.” 

“ I will not ask you for your confidence,” returned 
Prince Florizel. “ But do not forget that Colonel 
Geraldine’s recommendation is an unfailing passport; 
and that I am not only Avilling, but possibly more able 
than many others, to do you a service.” 

Silas was delighted with the amiability of this great 
personage; but his mind soon returned upon its gloomy 
preoccupations; for not even the favor of a Prince to 
a Republican can discharge a brooding spirit of its 
cares. 

The train arrived at Charing Cross, where the offi- 
cers of the Revenue respected the baggage of Prince 
Florizel in the usual manner. The most elegant 
equipages were in waiting ; and Silas was driven, 
along w'ith the rest, to the Prince’s residence. There 
Colonel Geraldine sought him out, and expressed him- 
self pleased to have been of any service to a friend of 
the physician’s, for whom he professed a great consid- 
eration. 

“ I hope,” he added, “ that you will find none of 
your porcelain injured. Special orders were given 
along the line to deal tenderly with the Prince’s 
effects.” 

And then, directing the servants to place one of the 
carriages at the young gentleman’s disposal, and at 
once to charge the Saratoga trunk upon the dickey, 
the Colonel shook hands and excused himself on 
account of his occupations in the princely household. 

Silas now broke the seal of the envelope containing 
the address, and directed the stately footman to drive 
him to Box Court, opei]i||g off the Strand. It seemed 
as if the place were not’W all unknown to the man, for 
he looked startled and begged a repetition of the order. 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


57 


It was with a heart full of alarms, that Silas mounted 
into the luxurious vehicle, and was driven to his des- 
tination. The entrance to Box Court was too narrow 
for the passage of a coach ; it was a mere footway 
between railings, with a post at either end. On one of 
these posts was seated a man, who at once jumped 
down and exchanged a friendly sign with the driver, 
while the footman opened the door and inquired of 
Silas whether he should take down the Saratoga trunk, 
and to what number it should be carried. 

“ If you please,” said Silas. “ To number three.” 

The footman and the man who had been sitting on 
the post, even with the aid of Silas himself, had hard 
work to carry in the trunk ; and before it was depos- 
ited at the door of the house in question, the young 
American was horrified to find a score of loiterers 
looking on. But he knocked with as good a counte- 
nance as he could muster up, and presented the other 
envelope to him who opened. 

“ He is not at home,” said he, “ but if you will leave 
your letter and return to-morrow early, I shall be able 
to inform you whether and when he can receive your 
visit. Would you like to leave your box ? ” he 
added. 

“ Dearly,” cried Silas ; and the next moment he 
repented his precipitation, and declared, with equal 
emphasis, that he would rather carry the box along 
with him to the hotel. 

The crowd jeered at his indecision and followed him 
to the carriage with insulting remarks ; and Silas, cov- 
ered with shame and terror, implored the servants to 
conduct him to some quiet and comfortable house of 
entertainment in the immediate neighborhood. 

The Prince’s equipage deposited Silas at the Craven 
Hotel in Craven Street, and immediately drove away, 
leaving him alone with the servants of the inn. The 
only vacant room, it appearej^\was a little den up four 
pairs of stairs, and looking t^ards the back. To this 
hermitage, with infinite trouble and complaint, a pair 


58 


ARABIAN- NIGHTS. 


i 


of stout porters carried the Saratoga trunk. It is 
needless to mention that Silas kept closely at their 
heels throughout the ascent, and had his heart in his 
mouth at every corner. A single false step, he 
reflected, and the box might go over the bannisters and 
land its fatal contents, plainly discovered, on the pave- 
ment of the hall. 

Arrived in the room, he sat down on the edge of his 
bed to recover from the agony that he had just endured; 
but he had hardly taken his position when he was 
recalled to a sense of his peril by the action of the 
boots, who had knelt beside the trunk, and was 
proceeding officiously to undo its elaborate fasten- 
ings. 

“ Let it be ! ” cried Silas. “ I shall want nothing 
from it while I stay here.” 

“ You might have let it lie in the hall, then,” growled 
the man ; ” a thing as big and heavy as a church. 
What you have inside, I cannot fancy. If it is all 
money, you are a richer man than me.” 

“ Money ? ” repeated Silas, in a sudden perturba- 
tion. “ What do you mean by money ? I have no 
money, and you are speaking like a fool.” 

“All right. Captain,” retorted the boots with a wink. 
“ There’s nobody will touch your lordship’s money. 
I’m as safe as the bank,” he added ; “but as the box 
is heavy, I shouldn’t mind drinking something to your 
lordship’s health.” 

Silas pressed two Napoleons upon his acceptance, 
apologizing, at the same time, for being obliged to 
trouble him with foreign money, and pleading his 
recent arrival for excuse. And the man, grumbling 
with even greater fervor, and looking contemptuously 
from the money in his hand to the Saratoga trunk and 
back again from the one to the other, at last consented 
to withdraw. 

For nearly two days tjje,dead body had been packed 
into Silas’s box ; and 3? soon as he was alone the 
unfortunate New-Englander nosed all the cracks and 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


openings with the most passionate attention. But 
weather was cool, and the trunk still managed to con 
tain his shocking secret. 

He took a chair beside it, and buried his face in his 
hands, and his mind in the most profound reflection. 
If he were not speedily relieved, no question but he 
must be speedily discovered. Alone in a strange qity, 
without friends or accomplices, if the Doctor’s intro- 
duction failed him, he was indubitably a lost New- 
Englander. He reflected pathetically over his ambi- 
tious designs for the future ; he should not now become 
the hero and spokesman of his native place of Bangor, 
Maine ; he should not, as he had fondly anticipated, 
move on from office to office, from honor to honor ; he 
might as well divest himself at once of all hope of being 
acclaimed President of the United States, and leaving 
behind him a statue, in the worst possible style of art, 
to adorn the Capitol at Washington. Here he was, 
chained to a dead Englishman doubled up inside a 
Saratoga trunk ; whom he must get rid of, or perish 
from the rolls of national glory ! 

I should be afraid to chronicle the language employed 
by this young man to the Doctor, to the murdered man, 
to Madame Zephyrine, to the boots of the hotel, to the 
Prince’s servants, and, in a word, to all who had been 
ever so remotely connected with his horrible misfor- 
tune. 

He slunk down to dinner about seven at night ; but 
the yellow coffee-room appalled him, the eyes of the 
other diners seemed to rest on his with suspicion, and 
his mind remained upstairs with the Saratoga trunk. 
When the waiter came to offer him cheese, his nerves 
were already so much on edge that he leaped half-way 
out of his chair and upset the remainder of a pint of 
ale upon the table-cloth. 

The fellow offered to show him the smoking-room 
when he had done ; and although he would have much 
preferred to return at once td his perilous treasure, he 
had not the courage to refuse, and was shown down- 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


.iS to the black, gas-lit cellar, which formed, and 
possibly still forms, the divan of the Craven Hotel. 

Two very sad betting men were playing billiards, 
attended by a moist, consumptive marker ; and for 
the moment Silas imagined that these were the only 
occupants of the apartment. But at the next glance 
his eye fell upon a person smoking in the farthest cor- 
ner, with lowered eyes and a most respectable and 
modest aspect. He knew at once that he had seen the 
face before ; and in spite of the entire change of 
clothes, recognized the man whom he had found seated 
on a post at the entrance to Box Court, and who had 
helped him to carry the trunk to and from the carriage. 
The New-Englander simply turned and ran, nor did he 
pause until he had locked and bolted himself into his 
bedroom. 

There, all night long, a prey to the most terrible 
imaginations, he watched beside the fatal boxful of 
dead flesh. The suggestion of the boots that his trunk 
was full of gold inspired him with all manner of new 
terrors, if he so much as dared to close an eye ; and 
the presence in the smoking-room, and under an obvious 
disguise, of the loiterer from Box Court convinced him 
that he was once more the centre of obscure machination. 

Midnight had sounded some time, when, impelled 
by uneasy suspicions, Silas opened his bedroom door 
and peered into the passage. It was dimly illuminated 
by a single jet of gas ; and some distance off he per- 
ceived a man sleeping on the floor in the costume of an 
hotel under-servant. Silas drew near the man on tip- 
toe. He lay partly on his back, partly on his side, and 
his right forearm concealed his face from recognition. 
Suddenly, while the American was still bending over 
him, the sleeper removed his arm and opened his eyes, 
and Silas found himself once more face to face with 
the loiterer of Box Court. 

“ Good night, sir,” said the man, pleasantly. 

But Silas was too profoundly moved to find an 
answer, and regained his room in silence. 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


6i 


Towards morning, worn out by apprehension, he fell 
asleep on his chair, with his head forward on the trunk. 
In spite of so constrained an attitude and such a grisly 
pillow, his slumber was sound and prolonged, and he 
was only awakened at a late hour and by a sharp tap- 
ping at the door. 

He hurried to open, and found the boots without. 

“You are the gentleman who called yesterday at 
Box Court ? ” he asked. 

Silas, with a quaver, admitted that he had done so. 

“ Then this note is for you,” added the servant, prof- 
fering a sealed envelope. 

Silas tore it open, and found inside the words : 
“ Twelve o’clock.” 

He was punctual to the hour ; the trunk was carried 
before him by several stout servants ; and he was him- 
self ushered into a room, where a man sat warming him- 
self before the fire with his back towards the door. The 
sound of so many persons entering and leaving, and the 
scraping of the trunk as it was deposited upon the bare 
boards, were alike unable to attract the notice of the 
occupant ; and Silas stood waiting, in an agony of 
fear, until he should deign to recognize his presence. 

Perhaps five minutes had elapsed before the man 
turned leisurely about, and disclosed the features of 
Prince Florizel of Bohemia. 

“So, sir,” he said with great severity, “this is the 
manner in which you abuse my politeness. You join 
yourselves to persons of condition, I perceive, for no 
other purpose than to escape the consequences of 
,your crimes ; and I can readily understand your 
’embarrassment when I addressed myself to you yes- 
terday.” 

“ Indeed,” cried Silas, “ I am innocent of everything 
except misfortune.” 

And in a hurried voice, and with the greatest ingen- 
uousness, he recounted to the Prince the whole history 
of his calamity. 

“ I see I have been mistaken,” said his Highness, 


62 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


when he had heard him to an end. “ You are no other 
than a victim, and since I am not to punish you, you 
maybe sure I shall do my utmost to help. And now,” 
he continued, “ to business.. Open your box at once, 
and let me see what it contains.” 

Silas changed color. 

“ I almost fear to look upon it,” he exclaimed. 

“ Nay,” replied the Prince, “ have you not looked at 
it already ? This is a form of sentimentality to be 
resisted. The sight of a sick man, w'hom Ave can still 
help, should appeal more directly to the feelings than 
* that of a dead man who is equally beyond help or 
harm, love or hatred. Nerve yourself, Mr. Scudda- 
more,” and then, seeing that Silas still hesitated, “I 
do not desire to give another name to my request,” he 
added. 

The young American awoke as if out of a dream, and 
with a shiver of repugnance addressed himself to loose 
the straps and open the lock of the Saratoga trunk. 
The Prince stood by, watching with a composed coun- 
tenance and his hands behind his back. The body 
was quite stiff, and it cost Silas a great effort, both 
moral and physical, to dislodge it from its position, and 
discover the face. 

Prince Florizel started back with an exclamation of 
painful surprise. 

“Alas!” he cried, “you little know, Mr. Scudda- 
more, what a cruel gift you have brought me. This is 
a young man of my owm suite, the brother of my 
trusted friend ; and it was upon matters of my own 
service that he has thus perished at the hands of vio- 
lent and treacherous men. Poor Geraldine,” he went ’ 
on, as if to himself, “ in what words am I to tell you 
of your brother’s fate ? How can I excuse myself in 
your eyes, or in the eyes of God, for the presumptuous 
schemes that led him to this bloody and unnatural 
death ? Ah, Florizel ! Florizel ! when will you learn 
the discretion that suits mortal life, and be no longer 
dazzled with the image of power at your disposal ? 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


^3 


Power !” he cried ; “who is more powerless? I look 
upon this young man whom I have sacrificed, Mr. 
Scuddamore, and feel how small a thing it is to be a 
Prince.” 

Silas was moved at the sight of his emotion. He 
tried to murmur some consolatory words, and burst 
into tears. The Prince, touched by his obvious 
intention, came up to him and took him by the hand. 

“Command yourself,” said he. “We have both 
much to learn, and we shall both be better men for 
to-day’s meeting.” 

Silas thanked him in silence with an affectionate 
look. 

“ Write me the address of Doctor Noel on this piece 
of paper,” continued the Prince, leading him towards 
the table ; “ and let me recommend you, when you are 
again in Paris, to avoid the society of that dangerous 
man. He has acted in this matter on a generous 
inspiration ; that I must believe ; had he been privy 
to young Geraldine’s death he would never have 
despatched the body to the care of the actual crimi- 
nal.” 

“ The actual criminal !” repeated Silas in astonish- 
ment. » 

“ Even so,” returned the Prince. “ This letter, 
which the disposition of Almighty Providence has so 
strangely delivered into my hands, was addressed to 
no less a person than the criminal himself, the infamous 
President of the Suicide Club. Seek to pry no further 
in these perilous affairs, but content yourself with 
your own miraculous escape, and leave this house at 
once. I have pressing affairs, and must arrange at 
once about this poor clay, which was so lately a gallant 
and handsome youth.” 

Silas took a grateful and submissive leave of Prince 
Florizel, but he lingered in Box Court until he saw him 
depart in a splendid carriage on a visit to Colonel Hen- 
derson of the police. Republican as he was, the young 
American took off his hat with almost a sentiment of 


64 


ATEPV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


devotion to the retreating carriage. And the same 
night he started by rail on his return to Paris. 

Here (observes my Arabian Author) is the end of 
The History of the Physician and the Saratoga 
T RUNK. Omitting sotne reflections on the power of Prov- 
idence, highly pertinent in the original, but little suited to 
our occidental taste, I shall only add that Mr. Scuddaniore 
has already begun to tnouni the ladder of political fame, 
atid by last advices was the Sheriff of his native town. 


THE AD VENTURE OF THE HANSOM CAE. 


Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich had greatly distin- 
guished himself in one of the lesser Indian hill wars. 
He it was who took the chieftain prisoner with his own 
hand; his gallantry was universally applauded; and 
when he came home, prostrated by an ugly sabre cut 
and a protracted jungle fever, society was prepared to 
welcome the Lieutenant as a celebrity of minor luster. 
But his was a character remarkable for unaffected 
modesty; adventure was dear to his heart, but he cared 
little for adulation; and he waited at foreign watering- 
places and in Algiers until the fame of his exploits 
had run through it’s nine day’s vitality and begun to 
be forgotten. He arrived in London at last, in the 
early season, with as little observation as he could desire; 
and as he was an orphan and had none but distant 
relatives who lived in the provinces, it was almost 
as a foreigner that he installed himself in the capital 
of the country for which he had shed his blood. 

On the day following his arrival he dined alone at a 
military club. He shook hands with a few old com- 
rades, and received their congratulations; but as one 
and all had some engagement for the evening, he found 
himself left entirely to his own resources. He was in 
dress, for he had entertained the notion of visiting a 
theater. But the great city was new to him; he had 
gone from a provincial school to a military college, 
and thence direct to the Eastern Empire; and he 
promised himself a variety of delights in this world 
for exploration. Swinging his cane, he took his way 
westward. It was a mild evening, already dark, and 
now and then threatening rain. The succession of 
faces in the lamplight stirred the Lieutenant’s imagin- 
ation ; and it seemed to him as if he could walk for ever 

65 


66 


A^A'JF J/^ABIAAT NIGIITB 


in that stimulating city atmosphere and s*urounded by 
the mystery of four million private lives. He glanced 
at the houses, and marvelled what was passing behind 
those warmly-lighted windows; he looked into face 
after face, and saw them each intent upon some 
unknown interest, criminal or kindly. 

“They talk of war,” he thought, “but this is the 
great battlefield of mankind.” 

And then he began to wonder that he should walk 
so long in this complicated scene, and not chance upon 
so much as the shadow of an adventure for himselfi 

“ All in good time,” he reflected. “ I am still a 
stranger, and perhaps wear a strange air. But I must 
be drawn into the eddy before long.” 

The night was already well advanced, when a plump 
of cold rain fell suddenly out of the darkness. 
Brackenbury paused under some trees, and as he did 
so he caught sight of a hansom cabman making him 
a sign that he was disengaged. The circumstance fell 
in so happily to the occasion that he at once raised his 
cane in answer, and had soon ensconced himself in the 
London gondola. 

“ Where to, sir ? ” asked the driver. 

“ Where you please,” said Brackenbury. 

And immediately, at a pace of surprising swiftness, 
the hansom drove off through the rain into a maze of 
villas. One villa was so like another, each with its 
front garden, and there was so little to distinguish the 
deserted lamp-lit streets and crescents through which 
the flying hansom took its way, that Brackenbury soon 
lost all idea of direction. He would have been con- 
tented to believe that the cabman was amusing himself 
by driving him round and round and in and out about 
a small quarter, but there was something businesslike 
in the speed which convinced him of the contrary. 
The man had an object in view, he was hastening tow- 
ards a definite end; and Brackenbury was at once 
astonished at the fellow’s skill in picking a way through 
such a labyrinth, and a little concerned to imagine 


TIIK SUICIDE CLUB. 


67 


what was the occasion of his hurry. He liad heard 
tales of strangers falling ill in London. Did the driver 
belong to some bloody and treacherous association ? and 
was he himself being whirled to a murderous death ? 

The thought had scarcely presented itself, when the 
cab swung sharply round a corner and pulled up before 
the garden gate of a villa in a long and wide road. 
The house was brilliantly lighted up. Another hansom 
had just driven away, and Brackenbury could see a 
gentleman being admitted at the front door and 
received by several liveried servants. He w'as sur- 
])rised that the cabman should have stopped so imme- 
diately in front of a house where a reception was being 
held; but he did not doubt it was the result of acci- 
dent, and sat placidly smoking where he was, until he 
heard the trap thrown open over his head. 

“ Here we are, sir,” said the driver. 

“ Herei ” repeated Brackenbury. “ Where ? ” 

“ You told me to take you where I pleased, sir,” 
returned the man wdth a chuckle, “ and here we are.” 

It struck Brackenbury that the voice was wonder- 
fully smooth and courteous for a man in so inferior a 
position; he remembered the speed at which he had 
been driven; and now it occurred to him that the han- 
som was more luxuriously appointed than the common 
run of public conveyances. 

“ I must ask you to explain,” said he. “ Do you 
mean to turn me out into the rain.? My good man, I 
suspect the choice is mine.” 

‘‘ The choice is certainly yours,” replied the driver; 
“ but when I tell you all, I believe I know how a gen- 
tleman of your figure will decide. There is a gentle- 
men’s party in this house. I do not know whether the 
master be a stranger to London and without acquaint- 
ances of his own; or whether he is a man of odd 
notions. But certainly I was hired to kidnap single 
gentlemen in evening dress, as many as I pleased, but 
military officers by preference. You have simply to 
go in and say that Mr. Morris invited you.” 


68 


JV£IF ARABIAN- NIGHTS. 


“ Are you Mr. Morris ? ” inquired the Lieutenant. 

“ Oh, no,” replied the cabman. “ Mr. Morris is the 
person of the house.” 

It is not a common way of collecting guests,” said 
Brackenbury; “but an eccentric man might very well 
indulge the whim without any intention to offend. 
And suppose that I refuse Mr. Morris’s invitation,” he 
vvent on, “ what then .? ” 

“ My orders are to drive you back where I took you 
from,” replied the man, “ and set out to look for others 
up to midnight. Those who have no fancy for such 
an adventure, Mr. Morris said, were not the guests for 
him.” 

These words decided the Lieutenant on the spot. 

“ After all,” he reflected, as he descended from the 
hansom, I have not had long to wait for my adven- 
ture.” 

He had hardly found footing on the side-walk, and 
was still feeling in his pocket for the fare, when the 
cab swung about and drove off by the way it came at 
the former break-neck velocity. Brackenbury shouted 
after the man, who paid no heed, and continued to 
drive away; but the sound of his voice was overheard 
in the house, the door was again thrown open, emitting 
a flood of light upon the garden, and a servant ran 
down to meet him holding an umbrella. 

The cabman has been paid,” observed the servant 
in a very civil tone; and he proceeded to escort 
Brackenbury along the path and up the steps. In the 
hall several other attendants relieved him of his hat, 
cane, and paletot, gave him a ticket with a number in 
return, and politely hurried him up a stair adorned 
with tropical flowers, to the door of an apartment on 
the first story. Here a grave butler inquired his 
name, and announcing ” Lieutenant Brackenbury 
Rich,” ushered him into the drawing-room of the 
house. 

A young man, slender and singularly handsome, 
came forward and greeted him with an air at once 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


69 


courtly and affectionate. Hundreds of candles, of the 
finest wax, lit up a room that was perfumed, like the 
staircase, with a profusion of rare and beautiful flow- 
ering shrubs. A side-table was loaded with tempting 
viands. Several servants went to and fro with fruits 
and goblets of champagne. The company was per- 
haps sixteen in number, all men, few beyond the prime 
of life, and with hardly an exception, of a dashing and 
capable exterior. They were divided into two groups, 
one about a roulette board, and the other surrounding 
a table at which one of their number held a bank of 
baccarat. 

“ I see,” thought Brackenbury, “I am in a private 
gambling saloon, and the cabman was a tout.” 

His eye had embraced the details, and his mind 
formed the conclusion, while his host was still holding 
him by the hand; and to him his looks returned from 
this rapid survey. At a second view Mr. Morris sur- 
prised him still more than on the first. The easy 
elegance of his manners, the distinction, amiability, 
and courage that appeared upon his features, fitted 
very ill with the Lieutenant’s preconceptions on the 
subject of the proprietor of a hell; and the tone of his 
conversation seemed to mark him out for a man of 
position and merit. Brackenbury found he had an 
instinctive liking for his entertainer; and though he 
chid himself for the weakness he was unable to resist a 
sort of friendly attraction for Mr. Morris’s person and 
character. 

“ I have heard of you. Lieutenant Rich,” said Mr. 
Morris, lowering his tone; “ and believe me I am grati- 
fied to make your acquaintance. Your looks accord 
with the reputation that has preceded you from India. 
And if you will forget for a while the irregularity of 
your presentation in my house, I shall feel it not only 
an honor, but genuine pleasure besides. A man who 
makes a mouthful of barbarian cavaliers,” he added 
with a laugh, “ should not be appalled by a breach of 
etiquette, however serious.” 


70 


XE IV AEAEIAX NIGHTS. 


And he led him towards the sideboard and pressed 
him to partake of some refreshments. 

‘‘Upon my word,” the Lieutenant reflected, “this is 
one of the pleasantest fellows and, I do not doubt, one 
of the most agreeable societies in London.” 

He partook of some champagne, which he found 
excellent; and observing that many of the company 
were already smoking, he lit one of his own Manillas, 
and strolled up to the roulette board, where he some- 
times made a stake and sometimes looked on smilingly 
on the fortune of otiicrs. It was while he was thus 
idling that he became aware of a sharp scrutiny to 
which the whole of the guests were subjected. ?dr. 
Morris went here and there, ostensibly busied on hos- 
pitable concerns; but he had ever a shrewd glance at 
disposal; not a man of the party escaped his sudden, 
searching looks; he took stock of the bearing of heavy 
losers, he valued the amount of the stakes, he paused 
behind couples who were deep in conversation; and, in 
a word, there was hardly a characteristic of anyone 
present but he seemed to catch and make a note of it. 
Brackenbury began to Avonder if this were indeed a 
gambling hell: it had so much the air of a private 
inquisition. He followed Mr. Morris in all his move- 
ments; and although the man had a ready smile, he 
seemed to perceive, as it were under a mask, a haggard, 
careworn, and preoccupied spirit. The fellows around 
him laughed and made their game; but Brackenbury 
had lost interest in the guests. 

“ This Morris,” thought he, “ is no idler in the room. 
Some deep purpose inspires him; let it be mine to 
fathom it.” 

Now and then Mr. Morris would call one of his 
visitors aside; and after a brief colloquy in an ante- 
room, he would return alone, and the visitors in ques- 
tion reappeared no more. After a certain number of 
repetitions, this performance excited Brackenbury’s 
curiosity to a high degree. He determined to be at 
the bottom of this minor mystery at once; and strolling 


■j'JIE SUICIDE CLUB. 


71 


into the ^nte-roorn, found a deep window recess con- 
cealed by curtains of the fashionable green. Here he 
hurriedly ensconced himself; nor had he to wait long 
before the sound of steps and voices drew near him 
from the principal apartment. Peering through the 
division, he saw Mr. Morris escorting a fat and ruddy 
personage, with somewhat the look of a commercial 
traveler, whom Brackenbury had already remarked for 
his coarse laugh and under-bred behavior at the table. 
The pair halted immediately before the window, so that 
Brackenbury lost not a word of the following dis- 
course: — 

‘‘ I beg you a thousand pardons ! ” began Mr. Morris, 
with the most conciliatory manner; “ and, if I appear 
rude, I am sure you will readily forgive me. In a 
place so great as London accidents must continually 
happen; and the best that we can hope is to remedy 
them with as small delay as possible. I will not deny 
that I fear you have made a mistake and honored my 
poor house by inadvertence; for, to speak openly, I 
cannot at all remember your appearance. Let me put 
the question without unnecessary circumlocution — 
between gentlemen of honor a word will suffice — 
Under whose roof do you suppose yourself to be } ” 

“ That of Mr. Morris,” replied the other, with a 
prodigious display of confusion, which had been visibly 
growing upon him throughout the last few words. 

“Mr. John or Mr. James Morris.?” inquired the 
host. 

“ I really cannot tell you,” returned the unfortunate 
guest. “I am not personally acquainted with the 
gentlemen, any more than I am with yourself.” 

“ I see,” said Mr. Morris. “ There is another per- 
son of the same name farther down the street; and I 
have no doubt the policeman will be able to supply 
you with his number. Believe me, I felicitate myself 
on the misunderstanding which has procured me the 
pleasure of your company for so long; and let me 
express a hope that we may meet again upon a more 


72 


N£ IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


regular footing. Meantime, I would not for the 
world detain you longer from your friends. John,” 
he added, raising his voice, ” will you see that the 
gentleman finds his great-coat ? ” 

And with the most agreeable air Mr. Morris escorted 
his visitor as far as the ante-room door, where he left 
him under conduct of the butler. As he passed the 
window, on his return to the drawing-room, Bracken- 
bury could hear him utter a profound sigh, as though 
his mind was loaded with a great anxiety, and his nerves 
already fatigued with the task on which he was 
engaged. 

For perhaps an hour the hansoms kept arriving with 
such frequency, that Mr. Morris had to receive a new 
guest for every old one that he sent away, and the com- 
pany preserved its number undiminished. But towards 
the end of that time the arrivals grew few and far be- 
tween, and at length ceased entirely, while the process of 
elimination was continued with unimpaired activity. 
The drawing-room began to look empty : the baccarat 
was discontinued for lack of a banker ; more than one 
person said good-night of his own accord, and was 
suffered to depart without expostulation : and in the 
meanwhile Mr. Morris redoubled in agreeable attentions 
to those who stayed behind. He went from group to 
group and from person to person with looks of the 
readiest sympathy and the most pertinent and pleasing 
talk ; he was not so much like a host as like a hostess, 
and there was a feminine coquetry and condescension 
in his manner which charmed the hearts of all. 

As the guests grew thinner. Lieutenant Rich strolled 
for a moment out of the drawing-room into the hall in 
quest of fresher air. But he had no sooner passed the 
threshold of the ante-chamber than he was brought to 
a dead halt by a discovery of the most surprising 
nature. The flowering shrubs had disappeared from 
the staircase ; three large furniture wagons stood 
before the garden gate ; the servants were busy dismant- 
ling the house upon all sides ; and some of th§m had 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


73 


already donned their great-coats and were preparing to 
depart. It was like the end of a country ball, where 
everything has been supplied by contract. Brackenbury 
had indeed some matter for reflection. First, the guests, 
who were no real guests after all, had been dismissed ; 
and now the servants, who could hardly be genuine 
servants, were actively dispersing. 

“Was the whole establishment a sham ?” he asked 
himself. “ The mushroom of a single night which 
should disappear before morning ? ” 

Watching a favorable opportunity, Brackenbury 
dashed upstairs to the higher regions of the house. It 
was as he had expected. He ran from room to room, 
and saw not a stick of furniture nor so much as a pic- 
ture on the walls. Although the house had been painted 
and papered, it was not only uninhabited at present, but 
plainly had never been inhabited at all. The young 
officer remembered with astonishment its specious, 
settled, and hospitable air on his arrival. It was only 
at a prodigious cost that the imposture could have been 
carried out upon so great a scale. 

Who, then, w’as Mr. Morris ? What was his intention 
in thus playing the householder for a single night in 
the remote west of London ? And why did he collect 
his visitors at hazard from the streets ? 

Brackenbury remembered that he had already 
delayed too long, and hastened to join the company. 
Many had left during his absence ; and counting the 
Lieutenant and his host, there were not more than five 
persons in the drawing-room — recently so thronged. 
Mr. Morris greeted him, as he re-entered the apartment, 
with a smile, and immediately rose to his feet. 

“ It is now time, gentlemen,” said he, “to explain 
my purpose in decoying you from your amusements. I 
trust you did not find the evening hang very dully on 
your hands ; but my object, I will confess it, was not 
to entertain your leisure, but to help myself in an unfor- 
tunate necessity. You are all gentlemen,” he continued, 
‘‘ your appearance does you that much justice, and I 


74 


NEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ask for no better security. Hence, I speak it without 
concealment, 1 ask you to render me a dangerous and 
delicate service ; dangerous because you may run the 
hazard of your lives, and delicate because I must ask 
an absolute discretion upon all that you shall see or 
hear. From an utter stranger the request is almost 
comically extravagant ; I am well aware of this ; and 
I would add at once, if there be anyone present who 
has heard enough, if there be one among the party who 
recoils from a dangerous confidence and a piece of 
Quixotic devotion to he knows not whom — here is my 
hand ready, and I shall wish him good-night and God- 
speed, with all the sincerity in the world.” 

A very tall, black man, with a heavy stoop, immedi- 
ately responded to this appeal. 

“ I commend your frankness, sir,” said he ; “ and, 
for my part, I go. I make no reflections ; but I can- 
not deny that you fill me with suspicious thoughts. I 
go myself, as I say ; and perhaps you will think I have 
no right to add words to. my example.” 

“ On the contrary,” replied Mr. Morris, “ I am 
obliged to you for all you say. It would be impossible 
to exaggerate the gravity of my proposal.” 

“ Well, gentlemen, what do you say ? ” said the tall 
man, addressing the others. “We have had our even- 
ing’s frolic; shall we go homeward peaceably in a body ? 
You will think well of my suggestion in the morning, 
when you see the sun again in innocence and safety.” 

The speaker pronounced the last words with an 
intonation which added to their force; and his face wore 
a singular expression, full of gravity and significance. 
Another of the company rose hastily, and, with some 
appearance of alarm, prepared to take his leave. There 
were only two who held their ground, Brackenbury 
and an old red-nosed cavalry Major; but these two 
preserved a nonchalant demeanor, and, beyond a look 
of intelligence which they rapidly exchanged, appeared 
entirely foreign to the discussion that had Just been 
terminated. 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


\ 

Mr, Morris conducted the deserters as far as t 
door, which he closed upon their heels ; then he turne 
round disclosing a countenance of mingled relief ana 
animation, and addressed the two officers as follows : 

“ I have chosen my men like Joshua in the Bible,” 
said Mr. Morris, “ and I now believe I have the pick 
of London. Your appearance pleased my hansom 
cabmen ; then it delighted me ; I have watched your 
behavior in a strange company, and under the most 
unusual circumstances : I have studied how you played 
and how you bore your losses ; lastly, I have put you 
to the test of a staggering announcement, and you 
received it like an invitation to dinner. It is not for 
nothing,” he cried, “ that I have been for years the 
companion and the pupil of the bravest and wisest 
, potentate in Europe.” 

“ At the affair of Bunderchang,” observed the Major, 
“ I asked for twelve volunteers, and every trooper in 
the ranks replied to my appeal. But a gaming party 
is not the same thing as a regiment under fire. You 
may be pleased, I suppose, to have found two, and 
two who will not fail you at a push. As for the pair 
who ran away, I count them among the most pitiful 
hounds I ever met with. Lieutenant Rich,” he added, 
addressing Brackenbury, “ I have heard much of you 
of late ; and I cannot doubt but you have also heard 
of me. I am Major O’Rooke.” 

And the veteran tendered his hand, which was red 
and tremulous, to the young Lieutenant. 

“Who has not?” answered Brackenbury. 

“ When this little matter is settled,” said Mr. Morris, 
“ you will think I have sufficiently rewarded you ; for 
I could offer neither a more valuable service than to 
make him acquainted with the other.” 

“And now,” said Major O’Rooke, “is it a duel ?” 

“A duel aher a fashion,” replied Mr. Morris, “a 
duel with unknown and dangerous enemies, and, as I 
gravely fear, a duel to the death. I must ask you,” he 
continued, “ to call me Morris no longer ; call me, if 


76 


//EtV ARABIAN' NIGHTS. 


/ou please, Hammersmith; my real name, as well as 
that of another person to whom I hope to present you 
^ before long, you will gratify me by not asking and not 
seeking to discover for yourselves. Three days ago 
the person of whom I speak disappeared suddenly from 
home; and, until this morning, I received no hint of 
his situation. You will fancy my alarm wlien I tell 
you that he is engaged upon a work of private justice. 
Bound by an unhappy oath, too lightly sworn, he finds 
it necessary, without the help of law, to rid the earth 
of an insidious and bloody villain. Already two of 
our friends, and one of them my own born brother, 
have perished in the enterprise. He himself, or I am 
much deceived, is taken in the same fatal toils. But 
at least he still lives and still hopes, as this billet 
sufficiently proves.” 4 

And the speaker, no other than Colonel Geraldine, 
proffered a letter, thus conceived: — 

“ Major Hammersmith, — On Wednesday, at 3 a. m., 
you will be admitted by the small door to the gardens 
of Rochester House, Regent’s Park, by a man who is 
entirely in my interest. I must request you not to fail 
me by a second. Pray bring my case of swords, and, 
if you can find them, one or two gentlemen of conduct 
and discretion to whom my person is unknown. My 
name must not be used in this affair. 

T. Godall. 

“From his wisdom alone, if he had no other title,” 
pursued Colonel Geraldine, when the others had each 
satisfied his curiosity, “my friend is a man whose 
directions should implicitly be followed. I need not 
tell you, therefore, that I have not so much as visited 
the neighborhood of Rochester House ; and that I am 
still as wholly in the dark as either of yourselves as to 
the naftire of my friend’s dilemma. I betook myself, 
as soon as I had received this order, to a furnishing 
contractor, and, in a few hours, the house in which we 
now are had assumed its late air of festival. My 
scheme was at least original ; and I am far from 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


n 


regretting an action which has procured me the services 
of Major O’Rooke and Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich. 
But the servants in the street will have a strange 
awakening. The house which this evening was full 
of lights and visitors they will find uninhabited and for 
sale to-morrow morning. Thus even the most serious 
concerns,” added the Colonel, “have a merry side.” 

“ And let us add a merry ending,” said Bracken- 
bury. 

The Colonel consulted his watch. 

“ It is now hard on two,” he said. “ We have an hour 
before us, and a swift cab is at the door. Tell me if 
I may count upon your help.” 

“ During a long life,” replied Major O’Rooke, “I 
never took back my hand from anything, nor so much 
^ as hedged a bet.” 

Brackenbury signified his readiness in the most 
becoming terms; and after they had drunk a glass or 
two of wine, the Colonel gave each of them a loaded 
revolver, and the three mounted into the cab and drove 
off for the address in question. 

Rochester House was a magnificent residence on the 
banks of the canal. The large extent of the garden 
isolated it in an unusual degree from the annoyances of 
neighborhood. It seemed the pare atix cerfs of some 
great nobleman or millionaire. As far as could be 
seen from the street, there was not a glimmer of light 
in any of the numerous windows of the mansion ; and 
the place had a look of neglect, as though the master 
had been long from home. 

The cab was discharged, and the three gentlemen 
were not long in discovering the small door, which was 
a sort of postern in a lane between two garden walls. 
It still wanted ten or fifteen minutes of the appointed 
time; the rain fell heavily, and the adventurers sheltered 
themselves below some pendent ivy, and spoke in low 
tones of the approaching trial. 

Suddenly Geraldine raised his finger to command 
silence, and all three bent their hearing to the utmost. 


78 


NEIF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


Through the continuous noise of the rain, the steps and 
voices of two men became audible from the other side 
of the wall ; and, as they drew hearer, Brackenbury, 
whose sense of hearing was remarkably acute, could 
even distinguish some fragments of their talk. 

“ Is the grave dug ? ” asked one. 

“ It is,” replied the other ; “ behind the laurel hedge. 
When the job is done, we can cover it with a pile of 
stakes.” 

The first speaker laughed, and the sound of his 
merriment was shocking to the listeners on the other 
side. 

“ In an hour from now,” he said. 

And by the sound of the steps it was obvious that 
the pair had separated, and were proceeding in contrary 
directions. 

Almost immediately after the postern door was 
cautiously opened, a white face was protruded into the 
lane, and a hand was seen beckoning to the watchers. 
In dead silence the three passed the door, which was 
immediately locked behind them, and followed their 
guide through several garden alleys to the kitchen 
entrance of the house. A single candle burned in the 
great paved kitchen, which was destitute of the custom- 
ary furniture ; and as the party proceeded to ascend 
from thence by a flight of winding stairs, a prodigious 
noise of rats testified still more plainly to the dilapida- 
tion of the house. 

Their conductor preceded them, carrying the candle. 
He was a lean man, much bent, but still agile ; and he 
turned from time to time and admonished silence and 
caution by his gestures. Colonel Geraldine followed 
on his heels, the case of swords under one arm, and a 
pistol ready in the other. Brackenbury’s heart beat 
thickly. He perceived that they were still in time; but 
lie judged from the alacrity of the old man that the 
hour of action must be near at hand; the circumstances 
of this adventure were so obscure and menacing, the 
place seemed so well chosen ^or the darkest acts, that 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


79 


an older man than Brackenbury might have been par- 
doned a measure of emotion as he closed the procession 
up the winding stair. 

At the top the guide threw open a door and ushered 
the three officers before him into a small apartment, 
lighted by a smoky lamp and the glow of a modest fire. 
At the chimney corner sat a man in the early prime of 
life, and of a stout but courtly and commanding 
appearance. His attitude and expression were those of 
the most unmoved composure ; he was smoking a 
cheroot with much enjoyment and deliberation, and on 
a table by his elbow stood a long glass of some effer- 
vescing beverage which diffused an agreeable odor 
through the room. 

“Welcome,” said he, extending his hand to Colonel 
Geraldine. “ I knew I might count on your exact- 
itude.” 

“ On my devotion,” replied the Colonel, with a bow. 

“ Present me to your friends,” continued the first ; 
and, when that ceremony had been performed, “ I wish, 
gentlemen,” he added, with the most exquisite affability, 
“ that I could offer you a more cheerful programme ; 
it is ungracious to* inaugurate an acquaintance upon 
serious affairs ; but the compulsion of events is 
stronger than the obligations of good-fellowship. I 
hope and believe you will be able to forgive me this 
unpleasant evening ; and for men of your stamp it will 
be enough to know that you are conferring a consider- 
able favor.” 

“Your Highness,” said the Major, “ must pardon my 
bluntness. I am unable to hide what I know. For 
some time back I have suspected Major Hammersmith, 
but Mr. Godall is unmistakable. To seek two men in 
London unacquainted with Prince Florizel of Bohemia 
was to ask too much at Fortune’s hands.” 

“ Prince Florizel !” cried Brackenbury in amaze- 
ment. 

And he gazed with the deepest interest on the fea- 
tures of the celebrated personage before him. 


8o 


N£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ I shall not lament the loss of my incognito,” 
remarked the Prince, ” for it enables me to thank you 
with the more authority. You would have done as 
much for Mr. Godall, I feel sure, as for the Prince of 
Bohemia ; but the latter can perhaps do more for you. 
The gain is mine,” he added, with a courteous ges- 
ture. 

And the next moment he was conversing with the 
two officers about the Indian army and the native 
troops, a subject on which, as on all others, he had a 
remarkable fund of information and the soundest 
views. 

There was something so striking in this man’s atti- 
tude at a moment of deadly peril that Brackenbury 
was overcome with respectful admiration ; nor was he 
less sensible to the charm of his conversation or the 
surprising amenity of his address. Every gesture, 
every intonation, was not only noble in itself, but 
seemed to ennoble the fortunate mortal for whom it 
was intended ; and Brackenbury confessed to himself 
with enthusiasm that this was a sovereign for whom a 
brave man might thankfully lay down his life. 

Many minutes had thus passed, wlien the person who 
had introduced them into the house, and who had sat 
ever since in a corner, and with his watch in his hand, 
arose and whispered a word into the Prince’s ear. 

“ It is w'ell. Dr. Noel,” replied Florizel, aloud ; and 
then addressing the others, “You will excuse me, 
gentlemen,” he added, “>if I have to leave you in the 
dark. The moment now approaches.” 

Dr. Noel extinguished the lamp. A faint, gray light, 
premonitory of the dawm, illuminated the window, but 
■w'as not sufficient to illuminate the roonv; and w’hen the 
Prince rose to his feet, it was impossible to distinguish 
his features or to make a guess at the nature of the 
emotion which obviously affected him as he spoke. He 
moved towards the door, and placed himself at one side 
of it in an attitude of the wariest attention. 

“ You will have the kindness,” he said, “to maintain 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


oi 

the strictest silence, and to conceal yourselves in the 
densest of the shadow.” 

The three officers and the physician hastened to 
obey, and for nearly ten minutes the only sound in 
Rochester House was occasioned by the excursions of 
the rats behind the woodwork. At the end of that 
period, a loud creak of a hinge broke in with surprising 
distinctness on the silence ; and shortly after, the 
watchers could distinguish a slow and cautious tread 
approaching up the kitchen stair. At every second 
step the intruder seemed to pause and lend an ear, and 
during these intervals, which seemed of an incalculable 
duration, a profound disquiet possessed the spirit of 
the listeners. Dr. Noel, accustomed as he was to 
dangerous emotions, suffered an almost pitiful physical 
prostration ; his breath whistled in his lungs, his teeth 
grated one upon another, and his joints cracked aloud 
as he nervously shifted his position. 

At last a hand was laid upon the door, and the bolt 
shot back with a slight report. There followed another 
pause, during which Brackenbury could see the Prince 
draw himself together noiselessly as if for some unusual 
exertion. Then the door opened, letting in a little 
more of the light of the morning ; and the figure of a 
man appeared upon the threshold and stood motionless. 
He was tall, and carried a knife in his hand. Even in 
the twilight they could see his upper teeth bare and 
glistening, for his mouth was open like that of a hound 
about to leap. The man had evidently been over the 
head in water but a minute or two before ; and even 
while he stood there the drops kept falling from his 
wet clothes and pattered on the floor. 

The next moment he crossed the threshold. There 
was a leap, a stifled cry, an instantaneous struple ; and 
before Colonel Geraldine could spring to his aid, the 
Prince held the man, disarmed and helpless, by the 
shoulders. 

“ Dr. Noel,” he said, “ you will be so good as to 
relight the lamp.” 


, ^ NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 

And relinquishing the charge of his prisoner to Ger- 
aldine and Brackenbury, he crossed the room and set 
his back against the chimney-piece. As soon as the 
lamp had kindled, the party beheld an unaccustomed 
sternness on the Prince’s features. It was no longer 
Florizel, the careless gentleman ; it was the Prince of 
Bohemia, justly incensed and full of deadly purpose, 
who now raised his head and addressed the captive 
President of the Suicide Club. 

“ President,” he said, “ you have laid your last 
snare, and your own feet are taken in it. The day is 
beginning ; it is your last morning. You have just 
swum the Regent’s Canal ; it is your last bathe in this 
world. Your old accomplice. Dr, Noel, so far from 
betraying me, has delivered you into my hands for 
judgment. And the grave you had dug for me this 
afternoon shall serve, in God’s almighty providence, to 
hide your own just doom from the curiosity of man- 
kind. Kneel and pray, sir, if you have a mind that 
way ; for your time is short, and God is weary of your 
iniquities.” 

The President made no answer either by word or 
sign ; but continued to hang his head and gaze sul- 
lenly on the floor, as though he were conscious of the 
Prince’s prolonged and unsparing regard. 

“ Gentlemen,” continued Florizel, resuming the ordi- 
nary tone of his conversation, “ this is a fellow who 
has long eluded me, but whom, thanks to Dr. Noel, I 
now have tightly by the heels. To tell the story of his 
misdeeds would occupy more time than we can now 
afford ; but if the canal had contained nothing but the 
blood of his victims, I believe the wretch would have 
been no drier than you see him. Even in an affair of 
this sort I desire to preserve the forms of honor. But 
I make you the judges, gentlemen — this is more an 
execution than a duel ; and to give the rogue ’his 
choice of weapons would be to push too far a point of 
etiquette. I cannot afford to lose my life in such a 
business,” he continued, unlocking the case of swords ; 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


83 


and as a pistol-bullet travels so often on the wings 
of chance, and skill and courage may fall by the most 
trembling marksman, I have decided, and I feel sure 
you will approve my determination, to put this ques- 
tion to the touch of swords.” 

When Brackenbury and Major O’Rooke, to whom 
these remarks were particularly addressed, had each 
intimated his approval, “Quick, sir,” added Prince 
Florizel to the President, “ choose a blade and do not 
keep me w'aiting; I have an impatience to be done 
with you for ever,” 

For the first time since he was captured and dis- 
armed the President raised his head, and it was plain 
that he began instantly t.o pluck up courage.” 

“ Is it to ’be stand up ? ” he asked eagerly, “ and 
between you and me ? ” 

“ I mean so far to honor you,” replied the Prince. 

“ Oh, come ! ” cried the President. “ With a fair 
field, who knows how things may happen ? I must 
add that I consider it handsome behavior on your 
Highness’s part ; and if the worst comes to the worst I 
shall die by one of the most gallant gentlemen in 
Europe ? ” 

And the President, liberated by those who had 
detained him, stepped up to the table and began, with 
minute attention, to select a sword. He was highly 
elated, and seemed to feel no doubt that he should 
issue victorious from the contest. The spectators grew 
alarmed in the face of so entire a confidence, and 
adjured Prince Florizel to reconsider his intention. 

“ It is but a farce,” he answered ; “ and I think I 
can promise you, gentlemen, that it will riot be long 
a-playing.” 

“Your Highness will be careful not to overreach,” 
said Colonel Geraldine. 

“Geraldine,” returned the Prince, “did you ever 
know me fail in a debt of honor ? I owe you this 
man’s death, and you shall have it.” 

The President at last satisfied himself with one of 


84 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


the rapiers, and signified his readiness by a gesture 
that was not devoid of a rude nobility. The nearness 
of peril, and the sense of courage, even to this obnox- 
ious villain, lent an air of manhood and a certain grace. 

The Prince helped himself at random to a sword. 

“ Colonel Geraldine and Doctor Noel,” he said,“will 
have the goodness to await me in this room. I wish 
no personal friend of mine to be involved in this trans- 
action. Major O’Rooke, you are a man of some years 
and a settled reputation — let me recommend the Presi- 
dent to your good graces. Lieutenant Rich will be so 
good as to lend me his attentions; a young man can- 
not have too much experience in such affairs." 

“ Your Highness,” replied Brackenbury, “ it is an 
honor I shall prize extremely.” 

“It is well,” returned Prince Florizel; “I shall 
hope to stand your friend in more important circum- 
stances.” 

And so saying he led the way out of the apartment 
and down the kitchen stairs. 

The two men who were thus left alone threw open 
the window and leaned out, straining every sense to 
catch an indication of the tragical events that were 
about to follow. The rain was now over; day had almost 
come, and the birds were piping in the shrubbery and 
on the forest trees of the garden. The Prince and his 
companions were visible for a moment as they followed 
an alley between two flowering thickets; but at the first 
corner a clump of foliage intervened, and they were again 
concealed from view. This was all that the Colonel 
and the physician had an opportunity to see, and the 
garden was so vast, and the place of combat evidently 
so remote from the house, that not even the noise of 
sword-play reached tTieir ears. 

“ He has taken him towards the grave,” said Dr. 
Noel, with a shudder. 

“ God,” cried the Colonel, “ God defend the right !” 

And they awaited the event in silence, the Doctor 
shaking with fear, the Colonel in an agony of svyeat, 


THE SUICIDE CLUB. 


85 


Many minutes must have elapsed, the day was sensibly 
broader, and the birds were singing more heartily in 
the garden before a sound of returning footsteps 
recalled their glances towards the door. It was the 
Prince and the two Indian officers who entered. God 
had defended the right. 

“ I am ashamed of my emotion,’ said Prince Florizel; 
“ I feel it a weakness unworthy of my station, but the 
continued existence of that hound of hell had begun 
to play upon me like a disease, and his death has 
more refreshed me than a night of slumber. Look, 
Geraldine,” he continued, throwing his sword upon the 
floor, “ there is the blood of the man who killed your 
brother. It should be a welcome sight. And yet,” 
he added, “ see how strangely we men are made ! my 
revenge is not yet five minutes old, and already I am 
beginning to ask myself if even revenge be attainable 
on this precarious stage of life. The ill he did, who 
can undo it ? The career in which he amassed a huge 
fortune (for the house itself in which he staid belonged 
to him) — that career is now a part of the destiny of 
mankind forever; and I might weary myself making 
t'hrusts in carte until the crack of judgment, and Ger- 
aldine’s brother would be none the less dead, and a 
thousand other innocent persons would be none the 
less dishonored and debauched ! The existence of a 
man is so small a thing to take, so mighty a thing to 
employ ! Alas ! ” he cried, “ is there anything in life 
so disenchanting as attainment ? ” 

“ God’s justice has been done,” replied the Doctor, 
“ So much I behold. The lesson, your Highness, has 
been a cruel one for me; and I await my own turn 
with deadly apprehension,” 

“ What was I saying ? ” cried fTie Prince, “ I have 
punished, and here is the man beside us who can help 
me to undo. Ah, Dr, Noel ! you and I have before us 
many a day of hard and honorable toil; and perhaps, 
before we have done, you may have more than 
redeemed your early errors,” 


86 


A^£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ And in the meantime,” said the Doctor, “ let me 
go and bury my oldest friend.” 

{^And this., observes the erudite Arabian, is the for- 
ty tiate conclusion of the tale. The Prince, it is superflu- 
ous to mention, forgot none of those who served him m this 
great exploit; and to this day his authority and influence 
help them forward in their public career, while his coti- 
descending friendship adds a charm to their private life. 
To collect, continues the author, all the strajtge events in 
which this Prince has played the part of Providence 
were to fill the habitable globe with books. But the 
stories which relate to the fortmus of The Rajah’s 
Diamond are of too entertaining a description, says he, 
to be omitted. Following prudently in the footsteps of 
this Oriental, we shall now begin the series to which he 
refers with the Story of the Bandbox.) 


THE RAJAH’S DIAMOND. 



THE RAJAHS DIAMOND. 


STORY OF THE BANDBOX. 

U P to the age of sixteen, at a private school and 
afterwards at one of those great institutions for 
which England is justly famous, Mr. Harry Hartley 
had received the ordinary education of a gentleman. 
At that period, he manifested a remarkable distaste for 
study ; and his only surviving parent being both weak 
and ignorant, he was permitted thenceforward to spend 
his time in the attainment of petty and purely elegant 
accomplishments. Two years later, he was left an 
orphan and almost a beggar. For all active and indus- 
trious pursuits, Harry was unfitted alike by nature and 
training. He could sing romahtic ditties, and accom- 
pany himself with discretion on the piano ; he was a 
graceful although a timid cavalier ; he had a pro- 
nounced taste for chess ; and nature had sent him into 
the world with one of the most engaging exteriors that 
can well be fancied. Blond and pink, with dove’s eyes 
and a gentle smile, he had an air of agreeable tender- 
ness and melancholy, and the most submissive and 
caressing manners. But when all is said, he was not 
the man to lead armaments of war, or direct the coun- 
cils of a State. 

A fortunate chance and some influence obtained for 
Harry, at the time of his bereavement, the position of 
private secretary to Major-General Sir Thomas Vande- 
leur, C.B. Sir Thomas was a man of sixty, loud-spoken, 
boisterous, and domineering. For some reason, some 
service the nature of which had been often whispered 
and repeatedly denied, the Rajah of Kashgar had pre- 
sented this officer with the sixth known diamond of the 
world. The gift transformed General Vandeleur from 
89 


90 


^-£1^ ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


a poor into a wealthy man, from an obscure and 
unpopular soldier into one of the lions of London 
society ; the possessor of the Rajah’s Diamond was 
welcome in the most exclusive circles ; and he had 
found a lady, young, beautiful, and well-born, who was 
willing to call the diamond hers even at the price of 
marriage with Sir- Thomas Vandeleur, It was com- 
monly said at the time that, as like draws to like, one 
jewel had attracted another ; certainly Lady Vandeleur 
was not only a gem of the finest water in her own 
person, but she showed herself to the world in a very 
costly setting ; and she was considered by many 
respectable authorities, as one among the three or four 
best dressed women in England. 

Harry’s duty as secretary was not particularly oner- 
ous ; but he had a dislike for all prolonged work ; it 
gave him pain to ink his fingers ; and the charms of 
Lady Vandeleur and her toilettes drew him often from 
the library to the boudoir. He had the prettiest ways 
among women, could talk fashions with enjoyment, 
and was never more happy than when criticising a' 
shade of ribbon, or running on an errand to the mil- 
liner’s, In short. Sir Thomas’s correspondence fell into 
pitiful arrears, and my Lady had another lady’s maid. 

At last the General, who was one of the least patient 
of military commanders, arose from his place in a vio- 
lent excess of passion, and indicated to his secretary 
that he had no further use for his services, with one 
of those explanatory gestures which are most rarely 
employed between gentlemen. The door being unfor- 
tunately open, Mr. Hartley fell down-stairs head fore- 
most. 

He arose somewhat hurt and very deeply aggrieved. 
The life in the General’s house precisely suited him ; 
he moved, on a more or less doubtful footing, in very 
genteel company, he did little, he ate of the best, and 
he had a lukewarm satisfaction in the presence of Lady 
Vandeleur, which, in his own heart, he dubbed by a 
more emphatic name. 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


91 


Immediately after he had been outraged by the mil- 
itary foot, he hurried to the boudoir and recounted his 
sorrows. 

“ You know very well, my dear Harry,” replied Lady 
Vandeleur, for she called him by name like a child or 
a domestic servant, “ that you never by any chance do 
what the General tells you. No more do I, you may 
say. But that is different. A woman can earn her 
pardon for a good year of disobedience by a single 
adroit submission ; and, besides, no one is married to 
his private secretary. I shall be sorry to lose you, but 
since you cannot stay longer in a house where you have 
been insulted, I shall wish you good-bye, and I promise 
you to make the General smart for his behavior.” 

Harry’s countenance fell ; tears came into his 
eyes, and he gazed on Lady Vandeleur with a tender 
reproach. 

‘‘ My Lady,” said he, “ what is an insult ? I should 
think little indeed of anyone who could not forgive 
them by the* score. But to leave one’s friends ; to 
tear up the bonds of affection ” 

He was unable to continue, for his emotion choked 
him, and he began to weep. 

Lady Vandeleur looked at him with a curious 
expression. 

“ This little fool,” she thought, “ imagines himself 
to be in love with me. Why should he not become 
my servant instead of the General’s .? He is good- 
natured, obliging, and understands dress; and besides 
it will keep him out of mischief. He is positively too 
pretty to be unattached.” 

That night she talked over the General, who was 
already somewhat ashamed of his vivacity; and Harry 
was transferred to the feminine department, where his 
life was little short of heavenly. He was always 
dressed with uncommon nicety, wore delicate flowers 
in his button-hole, and could entertain a visitor with 
tact and pleasantry. He took a pride in servility to a 
beautiful woman; received Lady Vandeleur’s com- 


92 


N£PV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


mands as so many marks of favor; and was pleased to 
exhibit himself before other men, who derided and 
despised him, in his character of male lady’s-maid and 
man milliner. Nor could he think .enough of his 
existence from a moral point of view. Wickedness 
seemed to him an essentially male attribute, and to 
pass one’s days with a delicate woman, and principally 
occupied about trimmings, was to inhabit an enchanted 
isle among the storms of life. 

One fine morning he came into the drawing-room 
and began to arrange some music on the top of the 
piano. Lady Vandeleur, at the other end of the 
apartment, was speaking somewhat eagerly with her 
brother, Charlie Pendragon, an elderly young man, 
much broken with dissipation, and very lame of ore 
foot. The private secretary, to whose entrance they 
paid no regard, could not avoid overhearing a part of 
their conversation. 

“ To-day or never,” said the lady. “Once and for 
all, it shall be done to-day.” 

“ To-day, if it must be,” replied the brother, with a 
sigh. “But it is a false step, a ruinous step, Clara; 
and we shall live to repent it dismally.” 

Lady Vandeleur looked her brother steadily and 
somewhat strangely in the face. 

“You forget,” she said; “the man must die at 
last.” 

“ Upon my word, Clara,” said Pendragon, “ I 
believe you are the most heartless rascal in England.” 

“ You men,” she returned, “ are so coarsely built, that 
you can never appreciate a shade of meaning. You 
are yourselves rapacious, violent, immodest, careless of 
distinction; and yet the least thought for the future 
shocks you in a woman. I have no patience with 
such stuff. You would despise in a common banker 
the imbecility that you expect to find in us.” 

“You are very likely right,” replied her brother; 
"^you were always cleverer than I. And, anyway, you 
know my motto: the family before all.” 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


9 . 


“Yes, Charlie,” she returned, taking his hand in 
hers, “ I know your motto better than you know it 
yourself. And ‘ Clara before the family ! ’ Is not 
that the second part of it ? Indeed, you are the best 
of brothers, and I love you dearly.” 

Mr. Pendragon got up, looking a little confused by 
these family endearments. 

“ I had better not be seen,” said he. “ I understand my 
part to a miracle, pd I’ll keep an eye on the Tame Cat.” 

“ Do,” she replied. “ He is an abject creature, and 
might ruin all.” 

She. kissed the tips of her fingers to him daintily; and 
the brother withdrew by the boudoir and the back stair. 

“ Harry,” said Lady Vandeleur, turning towards 
the secretary as soon as they were alone. “ I have a 
commission for you this morning. But you shall take 
a cab; I cannot have my secretary freckled.” 

She spoke the last words with emphasis and a look of 
half-motherly pride that caused great contentment to 
poor Harry; and he professed himself charmed to find 
an opportunity of serving her. 

“It is another of our great secrets,” she went on, 
archly, “and no one must know of it but my secretary 
and me. Sir Thomas would make the saddest dis- 
turbance; and if you only knew how weary I am of 
these scenes! Oh, Harry, Harry, can you explain to 
me what makes you men so violent and unjust ? But, 
indeed, I know you cannot; you are the only man in 
the world who knows nothing of these shameful pas- 
sions; you are so good, Harry, and so kind; you, at 
least, can be a woman’s friend; and, do you know? I 
think you make the others more ugly by comparison.” 

“ It is you,” said Harry, gallantly, “who are so kind 
to me. You treat me like ” 

“Like a mother,” interposed Lady Vancfeleur, “I 
try to be a mother to you. Or, at least,” she corrected 
herself with a smile, ‘^almost a mother. I am afraid I 
am too young to be your mother really. Let us say a 
friend — a dear friend.” 


/^£JV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


She paused long enough to let her words take effect 
in Harry’s sentimental quarters, but not long enough 
to allow him a reply. 

“ But all this is beside our purpose,” she resumed. 
“ You will find a bandbox in the left-hand side of the 
oak wardrobe; it is underneath the pink slip that I 
wore on Wednesday with my Mechlin, You will take 
it immediately to this address,” and she gave him a 
paper, “ but do not, on any account, let it out of your 
hands until you have received a receipt written by 
myself. Do you understand ? Answer, if you please 
— answer ! This is extremely important, and I must 
ask you to pay some attention,” 

Harry pacified her by repeating her instructions per- 
fectly; and she was just going to tell him more when 
General Vandeleur flung into the apartment, scarlet 
with anger, and holding a long and elaborate milliner’s 
bill in his hand. 

“ Will you look at this, madam ? ” cried he, “ Will 
you have the goodness to look at this document ? I 
know well enough you married me for my money, and 
I hope I can make as great allowance as any other 
man in the service; but, as sure as God made me, I 
mean to put a period to this disreputable prodigality.” 

“ Mr. Hartley,” said Lady Vandeleur, “ I think you 
understand what you have to do. May I ask you to 
see to it at once ?” 

“ Stop,” said the General, addressing Harry, “ one 
word before you go.” And then, turning again to 
Lady Vandeleur, “What is this precious fellow’s 
errand ? ” he demanded. “ I trust him no further than 
I do yourself, let me tell you. If he had as much as 
the rudiments of honesty, he would scorn to stay in 
this house; and what he does for his wages is a mys- 
tery to all fhe world. What is his errand, madam ? and 
why are you hurrying him away ? ” 

“ I supposed you had something to say to me in pri- 
vate,” replied the lady. 

“ You spoke about an errand,” insisted the General. 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


95 


“ Do not attempt to deceive me in my present state of 
temper. You certainly spoke about an errand.” 

“ If you insist on making your servants privy to our 
humiliating dissensions,” replied Lady Vandeleur, 
“ perhaps I had better ask Mr. Hartley to sit down. 
No ? ” she continued; “ then you may go, Mr. Hartley. 
I trust you may remember all that you have heard in 
this room; it may be useful to you.” 

Harry at once made his escape from the drawing- 
room; and as he ran upstairs he coyld hear the Gen- 
eral’s voice upraised in declamation, and the thin tones 
of Lady Vandeleur planting icy repartees at every 
opening. How cordially he admired the wife! How 
skilfully she could evade an awkward question! with 
what secure effrontery she repeated her instructions 
under the very guns of the enemy! and on the other 
hand, how he detested the husband! 

There had been nothing unfamiliar in the morning’s 
events, for he was continually in the habit of serving 
Lady Vandeleur on secret missions, principally con- 
nected with millinery. There was a skeleton in the 
house, as he well knew. The bottomless extravagance 
and the unknown liabilities of the wife had long since 
swallowed her own fortune, and threatened day by day 
to engulf that of the husband. Once or twice in 
every year exposure and ruin ’seemed imminent, and 
Harry kept trotting round to all sorts of furnishers’ 
shops, telling small fibs, and paying small advances on 
the gross amount, until another term was tided over, 
and the lady and her faithful secretary breathed again. 
For Harry, in a double capacity, was heart and soul 
upon that side of the war: not only did he adore Lady 
Vandeleur and fear and dislike her husband, but he 
naturally sympathized with the love of finery, and his 
own single extravagance was at the tailor’s. 

He found the bandbox where it had been described, 
arranged his toilet with care, and left the house. The 
sun shone brightly; the distance he had to travel was 
considerable, and he remembered with dismay that the 


96 


JV£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


General’s sudden irruption had prevented Lady Van- 
deleur from giving him money for a cab. On this 
sultry day there was every chaijce that his complexion 
would suffer severely;, and to walk through so much 
of London with a bandbox on his arm was a humilia- 
tion almost insupportable to a youth of his character. 
He paused, and took counsel with himself. The Van- 
deleurs lived in Eaton Place; his destination was near 
Notting Hill; plainly, he might cross the Park by 
keeping well in the open and avoiding populous alleys; 
and he thanked his stars when he reflected that it was 
still comparatively early in the day. 

Anxious to be rid of his incubus, he walked some- 
what faster than his ordinary, and he was already some 
way through Kensington Gardens when, in a solitary 
spot among trees, he found himself confronted by the 
General. 

“ I beg your pardon. Sir Thomas,” observed Harry, 
politely falling on one side; for the other stood directly 
in his path. 

“ Where are you going, sir ? ” asked the General. 

“ I am taking a little walk among the trees,” replied 
the lad. 

The General struck the bandbox with his cane. 

“With that thing?” he cried; “you lie, sir, and you 
know you lie! ” 

“ Indeed, Sir Thomas,” returned Harry, “ I am not 
accustomed to be questioned in so high a key.” 

“You do not understand your position,” said the 
General. “You are my servant, and a servant of 
whom I have conceived the most serious suspicions. 
How do I know but that your box is full of tea- 
spoons ? ” 

“ It contains a silk hat belonging to a friend,” said 
Harry. 

“Very well,” replied General Vandeleur. “Then I 
want to see your friend’s silk hat. I have,” he added, 
grimly, “ a singular curiosity for hats; and I believe 
you know me to be somewhat positive.” 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


97 


“ I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas, I am exceedingly 
grieved,” Harry apologized; “but indeed this is a pri- 
vate affair,” 

The General caught him roughly by the shoulder 
with one hand, while he raised his cane in the most 
menacing manner with the other. Harry gave him- 
self up for lost; but at the same moment Heaven 
vouchsafed him an unexpected defender in the person 
of ^Charlie Pendragon, who now strode forward from 
behind the trees. 

“ Come, come. General, hold your hand,” said he, 
“ this is neither courteous nor manly.” 

“ Aha ! ” cried the General, wheeling round upon 
his new antagonist, “ Mr. Pendragon! And do you 
suppose, Mr. Pendragon, that because I have had the 
misfortune to marry your sister, I shall suffer myself 
to be dogged and thwarted by a discredited and bank- 
rupt libertine like you ? My acquaintance with Lady 
Vandeleur, sir, has taken away all my appetite for the 
other members of her family.” 

“ And do you fancy. General Vandeleur,” retorted 
Charlie, “ that because my sister has had the misfor- 
tune to marry you, she there and then forfeited her 
rights and privileges as a lady ? I own, sir, that by 
that action she did as much as anybody could to dero- 
gate from her position; but to me she is still a Pen- 
dragon. I make it my business to protect her from 
ungentlemanly outrage, and if you were ten times her 
husband I would not permit her liberty to be 
restrained, nor her private messenger to be violently 
arrested.” 

“ How is that, Mr. Hartley?” interrogated the Gen- 
eral. “ Mr. Pendragon is of my opinion, it appears. 
He too suspects that Lady Vandeleur has something 
to do with your friend’s silk hat.” 

Charlie saw that he had committed an unpardonable 
blunder, which he hastened to repair. 

“ How, sir ? ” he cried; “ I suspect, do you say? I 
suspect nothing. Only where I find strength abused 


98 


NE W ARABIA}^ NIGHTS. 


and a man brutalizing his inferiors, I take the liberty 
to interfere.” 

As he said these words he made a sign to Harry, 
which the latter was too dull or too much troubled to 
understand. 

“ In what way am I to construe your attitude, sir ? ” 
demanded Vandeleur. 

“ Why, sir, as you please,” returned Pendragon. 

The General once more raised his cane, and made 
a cut for Charlie’s head; but the latter, lame foot and 
all, evaded ' the blow with his umbrella, ran in, and 
immediately closed with his formidable adversary. 

“ Run, Harry, run ! ” he cried; “ run, you dolt ! ” 

Harry stood petrified for a moment, watching the 
two men sway together in this fierce embrace; then he 
turned and took to his heels. When he cast a glance 
over his shoulder he saw the General prostrate under 
Charlie’s knee, but still making desperate efforts to 
reverse the situation; and the Gardens seemed to have 
filled with people, who were running from all direc- 
tions towards the scene of fight. This spectacle lent 
the secretary wings; and he did not relax his pace 
until he had gained the Bayswater road, and plunged 
at random into an unfrequented by-street. 

To see two gentlemen of his acquaintance thus bru- 
tally mauling each other was deeply shocking to Harry. 
He desired to forget the sight; he desired, above all, 
to put as great a distance as possible between himself 
and General Vandeleur; and in his eagerness for this 
he forgot everything about his destination, and hurried 
before him headlong and trembling. When he remem- 
bered that Lady Vandeleur was the wife of one and 
sister of the other of these gladiators, his heart was 
touched with sympathy for a woman so distressingly 
misplaced in life. Even his own situation in the Gen- 
eral’s house looked hardly so pleasing as usual in the 
light of these violent transactions. 

He had walked some little distance, busied with 
these meditations, before a slight collision with 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 99 

another passenger reminded him of* the bandbox on 
his arm. 

“ Heavens ! ” cried he, “ where was my head ? and 
whither have I wandered ? ” 

Thereupon he consulted the envelope which Lady 
Vandeleur had given him. The address was there, 
but without a name. Harry was simply directed to 
ask for “ the gentleman who expected a parcel from 
Lady Vandeleur,” and if he were not at home to 
await his return. The gentleman, added the note, 
should present a receipt in the handwriting of the lady 
herself. All this seemed mighty mysterious, and 
Harry was above all astonished at the omission of the 
name and the formality of the receipt. He had 
thought little of this last when he heard it dropped in 
conversation; but reading it in cold blood, and taking 
it in connection with the other strange particulars, he 
became convinced that he w’as engaged in perilous 
affairs. For half a moment he had a doubt of Lady 
Vandeleur herself; for he found these obscure pro- 
ceedings somewhat unworthy of so high a lady, and 
became more critical when her secrets were preserved 
against himself. But her empire over his spirit was 
too complete, he dismissed his suspicions, and blamed 
himself roundly for having so much as entertained 
them. 

In one thing, however, his duty and interest, his 
generosity and his terrors, coincided — to get rid of 
the bandbox with the greatest possible despatch. 

He accosted the first policeman and courteously 
inquired his way. It turned out that he was already 
not far from his destination, and a walk of a few 
minutes brought him to a small house in a lane, freshly 
painted, and kept with the most scrupulous attention. 
The knocker and bell-pull were highly polished; 
flowering pot-herbs garnished the sills of the different 
windows; and curtains of some rich material con- 
cealed the interior from the eyes of curious passen- 
gers. The place had an air of repose and secresy; 


lOO 


N£IV ARABIAN- NIGHTS. 


and Harry was fo far caught with this spirit that he 
knocked with more than usual discretion, and was 
more than usually careful to remove all impurity 
from his boots. 

A servant-maid of some personal attractions imme- 
diately opened the door, and seemed to regard the 
secretary with no unkind eyes. 

“ This is the parcel from Lady Vandeleur,” said 
Harry. 

“ I know,” replied the maid, with a nod. “ But the 
gentleman is from home. Will you leave it with 
me?” 

“ I cannot,” answered Harry. “ I am directed not 
to part with it but upon a certain condition, and I 
must ask you, I am afraid, to let me wait.” 

“ Well,” said she, “ I suppose I may let you wait. I 
am lonely enough, I can tell you, and you do not look 
as though you would eat a girl. But be sure and do 
not ask the gentleman’s name, for that I am not to tell 
you.” 

“ Do you say so ? ” cried Harry. “ Why, how 
strange! But indeed for some time back I walk 
among surprises. One question I think I may surely 
ask without indiscretion: Is he the master of this 
house? ” 

“ He is a lodger, and not eight days old at that,” 
returned the maid. “ And now a question for a ques- 
tion: Do you know Lady Vandeleur?” 

“ I am her private secretary,” replied Harry, with a 
glow of modest pride. 

“ She is pretty, is she not ?” pursued the servant. 

“ Oh, beautiful ! ” cried Harry; “ wonderfully lovely, 
and not less good and kind! ” 

“ You look kind enough yourself,” she retorted; 
“and I wager you are worth a dozen Lady Vande- 
leurs.” 

Harry was properly scandalized. 

“ I! ” he cried. “ I am only a secretary! ” 

“ Do you mean that for me ? ” said the girl. “ Be- 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


lOI 


cause I am only a housemaid, if please.’^ And 
then, relenting at the sight of Harry’s obvious con- 
fusion, “ I know you mean nothing of the sort,” she 
added; “ and I like your looks; but I think nothing 
of your Lady Vandeleur, Oh, these mistresses!” she 
cried. ‘‘To send out a real gentleman like you — with 
a bandbox — in broad day! ” 

During this talk they had remained in their original 
positions — she on the doorstep, he on the sidewalk, 
bareheaded for the sake of -coolness, and with the 
bandbox on his arm. But upon this last speech Harry, 
who was unable to support such point-blank compli- 
ments to his appearance, nor the encouraging look 
y^^ith which they were accompanied, began to change 
,his attitude, and glance from left to right in perturba- 
tion. In so doing he turned his face towards the 
lower end of the lane, and there, to his indescribable 
dismay, his eyes encountered those of General Vande- 
leur. The General, in a prodigious fluster of heat, 
hurry, and indignation, had been scouring the streets 
in chase of his brother-in-law; but so soon as he 
caught a glimpse of the delinquent secretary his pur- 
pose changed, his anger flowed into a new channel, 
and he turned on his heel and came tearing up the 
lane with truculent gestures and vociferations. 

Harry made but one bolt of it into the house, driv- 
ing the maid before him; and the door was slammed 
in his pursuer’s countenance. 

“ Is there a bar ? Will it lock? ” asked Harry, while 
a salvo on the knocker made the house echo from 
wall to wall. 

“ Why, what is wrong with you ? ” asked the maid, 
“ Is it this old gentleman ? ” 

“If he gets hold of me,” whispered Harry, “ I am 
as good as dead. He has been pursuing me all day, 
carries a sword-stick, and is an Indian military 
officer.” 

“ These are fine mannefs,” cried the maid. “ And 
what, if you please, may be his name ? ” 


102 


ATE IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ It is the (General, my master,” answered Harry. 
“ He is after this bandbox.” 

“ Did not I tell you ? ” cried the maid in triumph. 
“I told you I thought worse than nothing of your 
Lady Vandeleur; and if you had an eye in your head 
you might see what she is for yourself. An ungrateful 
minx, I will be bound for that! ” 

The General renewed his attack upon the knocker, 
and his passion growing with delay, began to kick and 
beat upon the panels of the door, 

“ It is lucky,” observed the girl, “ that I am alone in 
the house; your General may hammer until he is 
weary, and there is none to open for him. Follow 
me!” 

So saying she led Harry into the kitchen, where she 
made him sit down, and stood by him herself in an 
affectionate attitude, with a hand upon his shoulder. 
The din at the door, so far from abating, continued to 
increase in volume, and at each blow the unhappy sec- 
retary was shaken to the heart, 

“ What is your name ? ” asked the girl, 

” Harry Hartley,” he replied, 

“ Mine,” she went on, “ is Prudence, Do you- like 
it ? ” 

“Very much,” said Harry, “ But hear for a moment 
how the General beats upon the door. He will cer- 
tainly break it in, and then, in heaven’s name, what 
have I to look for but death ? ” 

“You put yourself very much about with no occas- 
ion,” answered Prudence, “ Let your General knock, 
he will do no more than blister his hands. Do you 
think I would keep you here if I were not sure to 
save you ? Oh, no, I am a good friend to those that 
please me ! and we have a back door upon another 
lane. But,” she added, checking him, for he had got 
upon his feet immediately on this welcome news, “ but 
I will not show where it is unless you kiss me. Will 
you, Harry?” * 

“ That I will,” he cried, remembering his gallantry, 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


103 


not for your back door, but because you are good 
and pretty.” 

And he administered two or three cordial salutes, 
which were returned to him in kind. 

Then Prudence led him to the back gate, and put 
her hand upon the key. 

“ Will you come and see me ? ” she asked. 

“ I will indeed,” said Harry. “ Do not I owe you 
my life ? ” 

“ And now,” she added, opening the door, “run as 
hard as you can, for I shall let in the General.” 

Harry scarcely required this advice; fear had him 
by the forelock; and he addressed himself diligently 
to flight. A few steps, and he believed he would 
return to Lady Vandeleur in honor and safety. But 
these few steps had not been taken before he heard a 
man’s voice, hailing him by name with many execra- 
tions, and, looking over his shoulder, he beheld 
Charlie Pendragon waving him with both arms to 
return. The shock of this new incident was so 
sudden and profound, and Harry was already 
worked into so high a state of nervous tension, that 
he could think of nothing better than to accelerate his 
pace, and continue running. He should certainly have 
remembered the scene in Kensington Gardens ; he 
should certainly have concluded that, where the General 
was his enemy, Charlie Pendragon could be no other 
than a friend. But such was the fever and perturba- 
tion of his mind that he was struck by none of these 
considerations, and only continued to run the faster up 
the lane. 

Charlie, by the sound of his voice and the vile 
terms that he hurled after the secretary, was obviously 
beside himself with rage. He, too, ran his very best; 
but, try as he might, the physical advantages were not 
upon his side, and his outcries and the fall of his lame 
foot on the macadam began to fall farther and farther 
into the wake. 

Harry’s hopes began once more to arise. The lane 


104 


NEJV ARABIAN- NIGHTS. 


was both steep and narrow, but it was exceedingly 
solitary, bordered on either hand by garden walls, 
overhung with foliage; and, for as far as the fugitive 
could see in front of him, there was neither a creature 
moving nor an open door. Providence, weary of per- 
secution, was now offering him an open field for his 
escape. 

Alas! as he came abreast of a garden door under a 
tuft of chestnuts, it was suddenly drawn back, and he 
could see inside, upon a garden path, the figure of a 
butcher’s boy with his tray upon his arm. He had 
hardly recognized the fact before he was some steps 
beyond upon the other side. But the fellow had had 
time to observe him; he was evidently much surprised 
to see a gentleman go by at so unusual a pace; and he 
came out into the 'lane and began to call after Harry 
with shouts of ironical encouragement. 

His appearance gave a new idea to Charlie Pen- 
dragon, who, although he was now sadly out of breath, 
once more upraised his voice. 

“ Stop thief I ” he cried. 

And immediately the butcher’s boy had taken up 
the cry and joined in the pursuit. 

This was a bitter moment for the hunted secretary. 
It is true that his terror enabled him once more to 
improve his pace, and gain with every step on his pur- 
suers; but he was well aware that he was near the end 
of his resources, and should he meet anyone coming 
the other way, his predicament in the narrow lane 
would be desperate indeed. 

“ I must find a place of concealment,” he thought, 
and that within the next few seconds, or all is over 
with me in this world.” 

Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind than the 
lane took a sudden turning ; and he found himself hid- 
den from his enemies. There are circumstances in 
which even the least energetic of mankind learn to 
behave with vigor and decision ; and the more cautious 
forget their prudence and embrace foolhardy resolu- 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


105 

tions. This was one of those occasions for Harry 
Hartley; and those who knew him best 'would have 
been the most astonished at the lad’s audacity. He 
stopped dead, flung the bandbox over a garden wall, 
and leaping upward with incredible agility and seizing 
the copestone with his hands, he tumbled headlong 
after it into the garden. 

He came to himself a moment afterwards, seated in 
a border of small rosebushes. His hands and knees 
were cut and bleeding, for the wall had been protected 
against such an escalade by a liberal provision of old 
bottles ; and he was conscious of a general dislocation 
and a painful swimming in the head. Facing him 
across the garden, which was in admirable order, and 
set with flowers of the most delicious perfume, he 
beheld the back of a house. It was of considerable 
extent, and plainly habitable ; but, in odd contrast to 
the grounds, it was crazy, ill-kept, and of a mean 
appearance. On all other sides the circuit of the gar- 
den wall appeared unbroken. • * 

He took in these features of the scene with mechan- 
ical glances, but his mind was still unable to piece 
together or draw a rational conclusion from what he 
saw. And when he heard footsteps advancing on 
the gravel, although he turned his eyes in that 
direction, it was with no thought either for defense 
or flight. 

The new comer was a large, coarse, and very sordid 
personage, in gardening clothes, and with a watering- 
pot in his left hand. One less confused would have 
been affected with some alarm at the sight of this 
man’s huge proportions and black and lowering eyes. 
But Harry was too gravely shaken by his fall to be so 
much as terrified ; and if he was unable to divert his 
glances from the gardener, he remained absolutely 
passive, and suffered him to draw near, to take him 
by the shoulder, and to plant him roughly on his feet, 
without a motion of resistance. 

For a moment the two stared into each other’s eyes, 


io6 


NEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


Harry fascinated, the man filled with wrath and a cruel, 
sneering humor. 

“ Who are you ? ” he demanded at last. “ Who are 
you to come flying over my wall and break my Gloire 
de Dijons ? What is your name ? ” he added, shaking 
him ; “ and what may be your business here ? ” 

Harry could not as much as proffer a word in 
explanation. 

But just at that moment Pendragon and the butch- 
er’s boy went clumping past, and the sound of their 
feet and their hoarse cries echoed loudly in the nar- 
row lane. The gardener had received his answer ; and 
he looked down into Harry’s face with an obnoxious 
smile. 

“ A thief ! ” he said. “ Upon my word, and a very 
good thing you must make of it ; for I see you dressed 
like a gentleman from top to toe. Are you not 
ashafned to go about the world in such a trim, with 
honest folk, I dare say, glad to buy your cast-off finery 
second-hand ?• Speak up, you dog,” the man went on ; 
“ you can understand English, I suppose ; and 1 mean 
to have a bit of talk with you before I march you to 
the station.” 

“ Indeed, sir,” said Harry, “ this is all a dreadful mis- 
conception ; and if you will go with me to Sir Thomas 
Vandeleur’s in Eaton Place, I can promise that all will 
be made plain. The most upright person, as I now 
perceive, can be led into suspicious positions.” 

“ My little man,” replied the gardener, “ I will go 
with you no farther than the station-house in the next 
street. The inspector, no doubt, will be glad to take 
a stroll with you as far as Eaton Place, and have a bit 
of afternoon tea with your great acquaintances. Or 
would you prefer to go direct to the Home Secretary ? 
Sir Thomas Vandeleur, indeed ! Perhaps you think I 
don’t know a gentleman when I see one, from a com- 
mon run-the-hedge like you ? Clothes or no clothes, I 
can read you like a book. Here is a shirt that maybe 
CO§t as much a§ my Sunday hat ; and that coat, I take 


THE RAJ A IPS DIAMOND. 


107 


it, has never seen the inside of Rag-fair, and then your 
boots — ” 

The man, whose eyes had fallen upon the ground, 
stopped short in his insulting commentary, and 
remained for a moment looking intently upon something 
at his feet. When he spoke his voic-e was strangely 
altered. 

“ What, in God’s name,” said he, “is all this ?” 

Harry, following the direction of the man’s eyes, 
beheld a spectacle that struck him dumb with terror 
and amazement. In his fall he had descended vertic- 
ally upon the bandbox and burst it open from end to 
end ; thence a great treasure of diamonds had poured 
forth, and now lay abroad, part trodden in the soil, 
part scattered on the surface in regal and glittering 
profusion. There was a magnificent coronet which he 
had often admired on Lady Vandeleur ; there were 
rings and brooches, ear-drops and bracelets, and even 
unset brilliants rolling here and there among the 
rosebushes like drops of morning dew. A princely 
fortune lay between the two men upon the ground — a 
fortune in the most inviting, solid, and durable form, 
capable of being carried in an apron, beautiful in itself, 
and scattering the sunlight in a million rainbow flashes. 

“ Good God ! ” said Harry, “ I am lost ! ” 

His mind raced backward into the past with the 
incalculable velocity of thought, and he began to com- 
prehend his day’s adventures, to conceive them as a 
whole, and to recognize the sad imbroglio in which his 
own character and fortunes had become involved. He 
looked round him, as if for help, but he was alone in 
the garden, with his scattered diamonds and his 
redoubtable interlocutor ; and when he gave ear, there 
was no sound but the rustle of the leaves and the 
hurried pulsation of his heart. It was little wonder 
if the young man felt himself a little deserted by 
his spirits, and with a broken voice repeated his last 
ejaculation — 

“ I am lost ! ” 


X o8 NEPV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 

The gardener peered in all directions with an air of 
guilt ; but there was no face at any of the windows, 
and he seemed to breathe again. 

“ Pick up a heart,” he said, “ you fool ! The worst 
of it is done. Why could you not say at first there 
was enough for two ? Two ! ” he repeated, “aye, and 
for two hundred ! But come away from here, where 
we may be observed ; and, for the love of wisdom, 
straighten out your hat and brush your clothes. You 
could not travel two steps the figure of fun you look 
just now.” 

While Harry mechanically adopted these sugges- 
tions, the gardener, getting upon his knees, hastily 
drew together the scattered jewels and returned them 
to the bandbox. The touch of these costly crystals 
sent a shiver of emotion through the man’s stalwart 
frame ; his face was transfigured, and his eyes shone 
with concupiscence ; indeed it seemed as if he luxuri- 
ously prolonged his occupation, and dallied with every 
diamond that he handled. At last, however, it was 
done ; and, concealing the bandbox in his smock, the 
gardener beckoned to Harry and preceded him in the 
direction of the house. 

Near the door they were met by a young man evi- 
dently in holy orders, dark and strikingly handsome, 
with a look of mingled weakness and resolution, 
and very neatly attired after the manner of his caste. 
The gardener was plainly annoyed by this encounter ; 
but he put as good a face upon it as he could, and 
accosted the clergyman with an obsequious and smil- 
ing air. 

“ Here is a fine afternoon, Mr. Rolles,” said he : “a 
fine afternoon, as sure as God made it ! And here is a 
young friend of mine who had a fancy to look at my 
roses. I took the liberty to bring him in, for I thought 
none of the lodgers would object.” 

“ Speaking for myself,” replied the Reverend Mr. 
Rolles, “ I do not ; nor do I fancy any of the rest of 
us would be more difficult upon so small a matter. 


THE RAJAH'S DIA MOND. 1 09 

The garden is your own, Mr, Raeburn ; we must none 
of us forget that ; and because you give us liberty to 
walk there we should be indeed ungracious if we so far 
presumed upon your politeness as to interfere with the 
convenience of your friends. But, on second thoughts,” 
he added, “ I believe that this gentleman and I have met 
before, Mr, Hartley, I think. I regret to observe 
that you have had a fall,” 

And he offered his hand, 

A sort of maiden dignity and a desire to delay as 
long as possible the necessity for explanation moved 
Harry to refuse this chance of help, and to deny his 
own identity. He chose the tender mercies of the 
gardener, who was at least unknown to him, rather 
than the curiosity and perhaps the doubts of an 
acquaintance. 

“ I fear there is some mistake,” said he. “ My 
name is Thomlinson and I am a friend of Mr. Rae- 
burn’s.” 

“Indeed?” said Mr. Rolles. “The likeness is 
amazing.” 

Mr, Raeburn, who had been upon thorns through- 
out this colloquy, now felt it high time to bring it to a 
period, 

“ I wish you a pleasant saunter, sir,” said he. 

And with that he dragged Harry after him into the 
house, and then into a chamber on the garden. His 
first care was to draw down the blind, for Mr. Rolles 
still remained where they had left him, in an attitude 
of perplexity and thought. Then he emptied the 
broken bandbox on the table, and stood before the 
treasure, thus fully displayed, with an expression of 
rapturous greed, and rubbing his hands upon his thighs. 
For Harry, the sight of the man’s face under the influ- 
ence of this base emotion, added another pang to those 
he was already suffering. It seemed incredible that, 
from his life of pure and delicate trifling, he should be 
plunged in a breath among sordid and criminal rela- 
tions. He could reproach his conscience with no sinful 


I lO 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


act ; and yet he was now suffering the punishment of 
sin in its most acute and cruel forms — the dread of 
punishment, the suspicions of the good, and the com- 
panionship and contamination of vile and brutal 
natures. He felt he could lay his life down with glad- 
ness to escape from the room and. the society of Mr. 
Raeburn. 

“ And now,” said the latter, after he had separated 
the jewels into two nearly equal parts, and drawn one 
of tliem nearer to himself ; “and now,” said he, “ every- 
thing in this world has to be paid for, and some things 
sweetly. You must know, Mr. Hartley, if such be your 
name, that I am a man of a very easy temper, and good 
nature has been my stumbling block from first to last. 
I could pocket the whole of these pretty pebbles, if I 
chose, and I should like to see you dare to say a word; 
but I think I must have taken a liking to you ; for I 
declare I have not the heart to shave you so close. So, 
do you see, in pure kind feeling, I propose that we 
divide ; and these,” indicating the two heaps, “ are the 
proportions that seem to me just and friendly. Do you 
see any objection, Mr. Hartley, may I ask? I am not 
the man to stick upon a brooch.” 

“ But, sir,” cried Harry, “ what you propose to me 
is impossible. The jewels are not mine, and I cannot 
share what is another’s, no matter with whom, nor in 
what proportions.” 

“They are not yours, are they not?” returned 
Raeburn. “ And you could not share them with any- 
body, couldn’t you ? Well now, that is what I call a 
pity ; for here I am obliged to take you to the station. 
The police — think of that,” he continued ; “ think of 
the disgrace for your respectable parents ; think,” he 
went on, taking Harry by the wrist ; “ think of the 
Colonies and the Day of Judgment.” 

“ I cannot help it,” wailed Harry. “ It is not my 
fault. You will not come with me to Eaton Place.” 

“ No,” replied the man, “ I will not, that is certain. 
And I mean to divide these playthings with you here.” 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


til 


_ And so saying he applied a sudden and severe tor- 
sion to the lad’s wrist. 

Harry could not suppress a scream, and the perspira- 
tion burst forth upon his face. Perhaps pain and 
terror quickened his intelligence, but certainly at that 
moment the whole business flashed across him in 
another light ; and he saw that there was nothing for 
it but to accede to the ruffian's proposal, and trust to 
find the house and force him to disgorge, under more 
favorable circumstances, and when, he himself was 
clear from all suspicion, 

“ I agree,” he said. 

“ There is a lamb,” sneered the gardener. “ I thought 
you would recognize your interests at last. This band- 
box,” he continued, “I shall burn with my rubbish; it is 
a thing that curious folk might recognize; and as for you, 
scrape up your gaieties and put them in your pocket.” 

Harry proceeded to obey, Raeburn watching him, 
and every now and again, his greed rekindled by some 
bright scintillation, abstracting another jewel from the 
secretary’s share, and adding it to his own. 

When this was finished, both proceeded to the front 
door, which Raeburn cautiously opened to observe 
the street. This was apparently clear of passengers ; 
for he suddenly seized Harry by the nape of the neck, 
and holding his face downward so that he could see 
nothing but the roadway and the doorsteps of the 
houses, pushed him violently before him down one 
street and up another for ^the space of perhaps a 
minute and a half. Harry had counted three corners 
before the bully relaxed his grasp, and crying, “Now 
be off with you ! ” sent the lad flying headforemost 
with a well-directed and athletic kick. 

When Harry gathered himself up, half-stunned and 
bleeding freely at the nose, Mr. Raeburn had entirely 
disappeared. For the first time, anger and pain so 
completely overcame the lad’s spirits that he burst into 
a fit of tears and remained sobbing in the middle of 
the road. 


112 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


After he had thus somewhat assuaged his emotion, 
he began to look about him and read the names of the 
streets at whose intersection he had been deserted by 
the gardener. He was still in an unfrequented portion 
of West London, among villas and large gardens ; but 
he could see some persons at a window who had evi- 
dently witnessed his misfortune ; and almost immedi- 
ately after a servant came running from the house and 
offered him a glass of water. At the same time, a 
dirty rogue, who had been slouching somewhere in the 
neighborhood, drew near him from the other side. 

“ Poor fellow,” said the maid, “ how vilely you have 
been handled, to be sure ! Why, your knees are all 
cut, and your clothes ruined ! Do you know the 
wretch who used you so ? ” 

“ That I do ! ” cried Harry, who was somewhat 
refreshed by the water ; “ and shall run him home in 
spite of his precautions. He shall pay dearly for this 
day’s work, I promise you.” 

“You had better come into the house and have 
yourself washed and brushed,” continued the maid. 
“ My mistress will make you welcome, never fear. 
And see, I will pick up your hat. Why, love of 
mercy ! ” she screamed, “ if you have not dropped 
diamonds all over the street ! ” 

Such was the case ; a good half of what remained to 
him after the depredations of Mr. Raeburn, had been 
shaken out of Kis pockets by the summersault, and 
once more lay glittering on the ground. He blessed 
his fortune that the maid had been so quick of eye ; 
“there is nothing so bad but it might be worse,” 
thought he ; and the recovery of these few seemed to 
him almost as great an affair as the loss of all the rest. 
But, alas ! as he stooped to pick up his treasures the 
loiterer made a rapid onslaught, overset both Harry 
and the maid with a movement of his arms, swept up 
a double handful of the diamonds, and made off along 
the street with an amazing swiftness. 

Harry, as soon as he could get upon his feet, gave 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


113 

chase to the miscreant with many cries, but the latter 
was too fleet of foot, and probably too well acquainted 
with the locality ; for turn where the pursuer would he 
could find no traces of the fugitive. 

In the deepest despondency Harry revisited the 
scene of his mishap, where the maid, who was still 
waiting, very honestly returned him his hat and the 
remainder of the fallen diamonds. Harry thanked her 
from his heart, and being now in no humor for econ- 
omy, made his way to the nearest cabstand and set off 
for Eaton Place by coach. 

The house, on his arrival, seemed in some confusion, 
as if a catastrophe had happened in the family ; and 
the servants clustered together in the hall, and 
were unable, or perhaps not altogether anxious, to sup- 
press their merriment at the tatterdemalion figure of 
the secretary. He passed them with as good an air of 
dignity as he could assume, and made directly for the 
boudoir. When he opened the door an astonishing 
and even menacing spectacle presented itself to his 
eyes ; for he beheld the General and his wife and, of 
all people, Charlie Pendragon, closeted together and 
speaking with earnestness and gravity on some import- 
ant subject. Harry saw at once that there was little 
left for him to explain — plenary confession had plainly 
been made to the General of the intended fraud upon 
his pocket, and the unfortunate miscarriage of the 
scheme ; and they had all made common cause against 
a common danger. 

“ Thank Heaven ! ” cried Lady Vandeleur, “ here 
he is ! The bandbox, Harry — the bandbox ! ” 

But Harry stood before them silent and downcast. 

“ Speak ! ” she cried. “ Speak ! Where is the 
bandbox ? ” 

And the men, with threatening gestures, repeated 
the demand. 

Harry drew a handful of jewels from his pocket. 
He was very white. 

“ This is all that remains,” said he. “ I declare 
8 


114 


NE PV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


before Heaven it was through no fault of mine ; and 
if you will have patience, although some are lost, I am 
afraid, for ever, others, I am sure, may be still recov- 
ered ! ” 

“ Alas ! ” cried Lady Vandeleur, “ all our diamonds 
are gone, and I owe ninety thousand pounds for 
dress ! ” 

“ Madam,” said the General, “ you might have paved 
the gutter with your own trash ; you might have made 
debts to fifty times the sum you mention ; you might 
have robbed me of my mother’s coronet and rings ; and 
Nature might have still so far prevailed that I could 
have forgiven you at last. But, madam, you have 
taken the Rajah’s Diamond — the Eye of Light, as the 
Orientals poetically termed it — the Pride of Kashgar ! 
You have taken from me the Rajah’s Diamond,” he 
cried, raising his hands, “ and all, madam, all is at an 
end between us ! ” 

“ Believe me. General Vandeleur,” she replied, 
“ that is one of the most agreeable speeches that ever 
I heard from your lips ; and since we are to be ruined 
I could almost welcome the change, if it delivers me 
from you. You have told me often enough that I 
married you for your money ; let me tell you now that 
I always bitterly repented the bargain ; and if you 
were still marriageable, and had a diamond bigger than 
your head, I should counsel even my maid against a 
union so uninviting and disastrous. As for you, Mr. 
Hartley,” she continued, turning on the secretary, 
“ you have sufficiently exhibited your valuable quali- 
ties in this house ; we are now persuaded that you 
equally lack manhood, sense and self-respect ; and I 
can see only one course open for you — to withdraw 
instanter, and, if possible, return no more. For your 
wages you may rank as a creditor in my late husband’s 
bankruptcy.” 

Harry had scarcely comprehended this insulting 
address before the General was down upon him with 
another. 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


”5 


^ And in the mean time,” said that personage, “fol- 
low me before the nearest Inspector of Police. You 
may impose upon a simple-minded soldier, sir, but the 
eye of the law will read your disreputable secret. If I 
must spend my old age in poverty through your under- 
hand intriguing with my wife, I mean at least that you 
shall not remain unpunished for your pains ; and God, 
sir, will deny me a very considerable satisfaction if you 
do not pick oakum from now until your dying day.” 

With that the General dragged Harry from the apart- 
ment, and hurried him downstairs and along the street 
to the police-station of the district. 

Here (says my Arabian author) ended this deplorable 
business of the bandbox. But to the unfortunate Secre- 
tary the whole affair was the beginning of a ne7v and man- 
lier life. The police were easily persuaded of his inno- 
cence j andy after he had given what help he could in the 
subsequent investigations y he was even complimented by one 
of the chiefs of the detective department on the probity and 
simplicity of his behavior. Several persons interested 
themselves in one so unfortunate ; and soon after he hiher- 
ited a sum of money from a maiden aunt in Worcestershire. 
With this he married Prude nee y and set sail for Bendigo, 
or according to another account, for Trincojnalee, exceed- 
ingly content, and with the best of prospects. 


STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY 
ORDERS. 


The Reverend Mr. Simon Rolles had distinguished 
himself in the Moral Sciences, and was more than 
usually proficient in the study of Divinity. His essay 
“ On the Christian Doctrine of the Social Obligations” 
obtained for him at the moment of its production, a 
certain celebrity in the University of Oxford; and it 
was understood in clerical and learned circles that 
young Mr. Rolles had in contemplation a considerable 
work — a folio, it was said — on the authority of the 
Fathers of the Church. These attainments, these ambi- 
tious designs, however, were far from helping him to 
any preferment ; and still he was in quest of his first 
curacy when a chance ramble in that part of London, 
the peaceful and rich aspect of the garden, a desire 
for solitude and study, and the cheapness of the lodg- 
ing, led him to take up his abode with Mr. Raeburn, the 
nurseryman of Stockdove Lane. 

It was his habit every afternoon, after he had worked 
seven or eight hours on St. Ambrose or St. Chrysostom, 
to walk for a while in meditation among the roses. 
And this was usually one of the most productive 
moments of his day. But even a sincere appetite for 
thought, and the excitement of grave problems await- 
ing solution, are not always sufficient to preserve the 
mind of the philosopher against the petty shocks and 
contacts of the w'orld. And when Mr. Rolles found 
General Vandeleur’s secretary, ragged and bleeding* 
in the company of the landlord ; when he saw both 
change color and seek to avoid his questions ; and, 
above all, when the former denied his own identity 
with the most unmoved assurance, he speedily forgot 
the Saints and Fathers in the vulgar interest of curiosity. 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


I17 

“ I cannot be mistaken,” thought he. “ That is Mr. 
Hartley beyond a doubt. How comes he in such a 
pickle ? why does he deny his name ? and what can be his 
business with that black-looking ruffian, my landlord } ” 

As he was thus reflecting, another peculiar circum- 
stance attracted his attention. The face of Mr. Rae- 
burn appeared at a low window next the door ; and, as 
chance directed, his eyes met those of Mr. Rolles. 
The nurseryman seemed disconcerted, and even 
alarmed ; and immediately after the blind of the apart- 
ment was pulled sharply down. 

“ This may all be very well,” reflected Mr. Rolles; 
“it may be all excellently well; but I confess freely 
that I do not think so. Suspicious, underhand, untruth- 
ful, fearful of observation — I believe upon my soul,” 
he thought, “ the pair are plotting some disgraceful 
action.” 

The detective that there is in all of us awoke and 
became clamant in the bosom of Mr. Rolles; and with 
a brisk, eager step, that bore no resemblance to his 
usual gait, he proceeded to make the circuit of the 
garden. When he came to the scene of Harry’s esca-' 
lade, his eye was at once arrested by a broken rosebud 
and marks of trampling on the mole. He looked 
up, and saw scratches on the brick, and a rag of trouser 
floating from a broken bottle. This, then, was the 
mode of entrance chosen by Mr. Raeburn’s particular 
friend ! It was thus that General Vandeleur’s secre- 
tary came to admire a flower-garden ! The young 
clergyman whistled softly to himself as he stooped to 
examine the ground. He could make out where 
Harry had landed from his perilous leap; he recog- 
nized the flat foot of Mr. Raeburn where it had sunk 
deeply in the soil as he pulled up the Secretary by the 
collar; nay, on a closer inspection, he seemed to dis- 
tinguish the marks of groping fingers, as though some- 
thing had been spilt abroad and eagerly collected. 

“Upon my word,” he thought, “the thing grows 
vastly interesting.” 


ii8 


//£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


And just then he caught sight of something almost 
entirely buried in the earth. In an instant he had dis- 
interred a dainty morocco case, ornamented and 
clasped in gilt. It had been trodden heavily under 
foot, and thus escaped the hurried search of Mr. Rae- 
burn. Mr. Rolles opened the case, and drew a long 
breath of almost horrified astonfshment; for there lay 
before him, in a cradle of green velvet, a diamond of 
prodigious magnitude and of the finest water. It was 
of the bigness of a duck’s egg; beautifully shaped, and 
without a flaw; and as the sun shone upon it, it gave 
forth a lustre like that of electricity, and seemed to 
burn in his hand with a thousand internal fires. 

He knew little of precious stones; but the Rajah’s 
Diamond was a wonder that explained itself; a village 
child, if he found it, would run screaming for the near- 
est cottage; and a savage would prostrate himself in 
adoration before so imposing a fetish. The beauty 
of the stone flattered the young clergyman’s eyes; the 
thought of its incalculable value overpowered his intel- 
lect. He knew that what he held in his hand was 
worth more than many years’ purchase of an archie- 
piscopal see; that it would build cathedrals more 
stately than Ely or Cologne; that he who possessed it 
was set free for ever from the primal curse, and might 
follow his own inclinations without concern or hurry, 
without let or hindrance. And as he suddenly turned 
it, the rays leaped forth again with renewed brilliancy, 
and seemed to pierce his very heart. 

Decisive actions are often taken in a moment and 
without any conscious deliverance from the rational 
parts of man. So it was now with Mr. Rolles. He 
glanced hurriedly round; beheld, like Mr. Raeburn 
before him, nothing but the sunlit flower-garden, the 
tall tree-tops, and the house with blinded windows ; and 
in a trice he had shut the case, thrust it into his pocket, 
and was hastening to his study with the speed of guilt. 

The Reverend Simon Rolles had stolen the Rajah’s 
Diamond, 


THE RA JAirS DIAMOND. 1 1 9 

Early in the afternoon the police arrived with Harry 
Hartley. The nurseryman, who was beside himself 
with terror, readily discovered his hoard; and the 
jewels were identified and inventoried in the presence 
of the Secretary. As for Mr. Rolles, he showed him- 
self in a most obliging temper, communicated what he 
knew with freedom, and professed regret that he could 
do no more to help the officers in their duty. 

“ Still,” he added, “ I suppose your business is 
nearly at an end.” 

“By no means,” replied the man from Scotland 
Yard; and he narrated the second robbery of which 
Harry had been the immediate victim, and gave the^ 
young clergyman a description of the more important 
jewels that were still not found, dilating particularly 
on the Rajah’s Diamond. 

“ It must be worth a fortune,” observed Mr. Rolles. 

“Ten fortunes — twenty fortunes,” cried the officer. 

“ The more it is worth,” remarked Simon, shrewdly, 
“the more difficult it must be to sell. Such a thing 
has a physiognomy not to be disguised, and I should 
fancy a man might as easily negotiate St. Paul’s 
Cathedral.” 

“ Oh, truly ! ” said the officer; “ but if the thief be a 
man of any intelligence, he will cut it into three or 
four, and there will be still enough to make him rich.” 

“Thank you,” said the clergyman. “You cannot 
imagine how much your conversation interests me.” 

Whereupon the functionary admitted that they knew 
many strange things in his profession, and immediately 
after took his leave. 

Mr. Rolles ’regained his apartment. It seemed 
smaller and barer than usual; the materials for his 
great work had never presented so little interest; and 
he looked upon his library with the eye of scorn. He 
took down, volume by volume, several Fathers of the 
^hurch, and glanced them through; but they contained 
nothing to his purpose. 

“ These old gentlemen,” thought he, “ are no doubt 


120 


NEW AE ASIAN NIGHTS. 


very valuable writers, but they seem to me conspicu- 
ously ignorant of life. Here am I, with learning 
enough to be a Bishop, and I positively do not know 
how to dispose of a stolen diamond. I glean a hint 
from a common policeman, and, with all my folios, I 
cannot so much as put it into execution. This inspires 
me with very low ideas of University training.” 

Herewith he kicked over his book-shelf and, putting 
on his hat, hastened from the house to the club of 
which he was a member. In such a place of mundane 
resort he hoped to find some man of good counsel and 
a shrewd experience in life. In the reading-room he 
saw many of the country clergy and an Archdeacon; 
there were three journalists and a writer upon the 
Higher Metaphysic, playing pool; and at dinner only 
the raff of ordinary club frequenters showed their 
common-place and obliterated countenances. None of 
these, thought Mr. Rolles, would know more on dan- 
gerous topics than he knew himself; none of them *vere 
fit to give him guidance in his present strait. At 
length, in the smoking-room, up many weary stairs, he 
hit upon a gentleman of somewhat portly build and 
dressed with conspicuous plainness. He was smoking 
a cigar and reading the Porinightly Review; his face 
was singularly free from all sign of preoccupation or 
fatigue: and there was something in his air which 
seemed to invite confidence and to expect submission. 
The more the young clergyman scrutinized his feat- 
ures, the more he was convinced that he had fallen on 
one capable of giving pertinent advice. 

“Sir,” said he, “you will excuse my abruptness; but 
I judge you from your appearance to be preeminently 
a man of the world.” 

“ I have indeed considerable claims to that distinc- 
tion,” replied the stranger, laying aside his magazine 
with a look of mingled amusement and surprise. 

“ I, sir,” continued the Curate, “ am a recluse, a 
student, a creature of ink-bottles and patristic folios. 
A recent event has brought my folly vividly before my 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


I2I 


eyes, and I desire to instruct myself in life. By life,” 
he added, “ I do not mean Thackeray’s novels; but the 
crimes and secret possibilities of our society, and the 
principles of wise conduct among exceptional events. 
I am a. patient reader; can the thing be learnt in 
books ? ” 

‘‘ You put me in a difficulty,” said the stranger. “ I 
confess I have no great notion of the use of books, 
except to amuse a railway journey; although, I believe, 
there are some very exact treatises on astronomy, the 
use of the globes, agriculture, and the art of making 
paper-flowers. Upon the less apparent provinces of 
life I fear you will find nothing truthful. Yet stay,” 
he added, “ have you read Gaboriau ? ” 

Mr. Rolles admitted he had never even heard the 
name. 

“ You may gather some notions from Gaboriau,” 
resumed the stranger. “ He is at least suggestive; 
and as he is an author much studied by Prince Bis- 
marck, you will, at the worst, lose your time in good 
society.” 

” Sir,” said the Curate, “ I am infinitely obliged by 
your politeness.” 

“ You have already more than repaid me,” returned 
the other. 

“ How ?” inquired Simon. 

“ By the novelty of your request,” replied the gen- 
tleman; and with a polite gesture, as though to ask 
permission, he resumed the study of the Fortnightly 
Revieiv. 

On his way home Mr. Rolles purchased a work on 
precious stones and several of Gaboriau’s novels. 
These last he eagerly skimmed until an advanced hour 
in the morning; but although they introduced him to 
many new ideas, he could nowhere discover what to do 
with a stolen diamond. He was annoyed, moreover, 
to find the information scattered amongst romantic 
story-telling, instead of soberly set forth after the 
manner of a manual; and he concluded that, even if 


122 


NEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


the writer had thought much upon these subjects, he 
Avas totally lacking in educational method. For the 
character and attainments of Lecoq, however, he was 
unable to contain his admiration. 

“ He was truly a great creature,” ruminated Mr. 
Rolles. “ He knew the world as I know Paley’s 
Evidences. There was nothing that he could not carry 
to a termination with his own hand, and against the 
largest odds. Heavens ! ” he broke out suddenly, “ is 
not this the lesson ? Must I not learn to cut diamonds 
for myself ! ” 

It seemed to him as if he had sailed at once out of 
his perplexities; he remembered that he kneAV a jew- 
eller, one B. Macculloch, in Edinburgh, who would be 
glad to put him in the way of the necessary training; 
a few months, perhaps a* few years, of sordid toil, and 
he would be sufficiently expert to divide and suffi- 
ciently cunning to dispose Avith advantage of the Ra- 
jah’s Diamond. That done, he might return to pursue 
his researches at leisure, a Avealthy and luxurious stu- 
dent, envied and respected by all. Golden visions 
attended him through his slumber, and he awoke 
refreshed and light-hearted Avith the morning sun. 

Mr. Raeburn’s house was on that day to be closed 
by the police, and this afforded a pretext for his 
departure. He cheerfully prepared his baggage, trans- 
ported it to King’s Cross, Avhere he left it in the cloak- 
room, and returned to the club to while away the after- 
noon and dine. 

“ If you dine here to-day, Rolles,” observed an 
acquaintance, “ you may see tAVO of the most remark- 
able men in England — Prince Florizel of Bohemia, 
and old Jack Vandeleur.” 

“ I have heard of the Prince,” replied Mr. Rolles; 
“ and General Vandeleur I have even met in society.” 

“ General Vandeleur is an ass! ” returned the other. 
“This is his brother John, the biggest adventurer, the 
best judge of precious stones, and one of the most 
acute diplomatists in Europe. Have you never heard 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


123 


ot his duel with the Due de Val d’ Orge ? of his 
exploits and atrocities when he was Dictator of Para- 
guay ? of his dexterity in recovering Sir Samuel Levy’s 
jewelry ? nor of his services in the Indian Mutiny — 
services by which the Government profited, but which 
the Government dared not recognize ? You make me 
w'onder what we mean by fame, or even by infamy; 
for Jack Vandeleur has prodigious claims to both. 
Run down stairs,” he continued, “ take a table near 
them, and keep your ears open. You will hear some 
strange talk, or I am much misled.” 

“ But how shall I know them ? ” inquired the cler- 
gyman. 

“ Know them ! ” cried his friend; “ why, the Prince 
is the finest gentleman in Europe, the only living crea- 
ture who looks like a king; and as for Jack Vande- 
leur, if you can imagine Ulysses at seventy years of 
age, and with a sabre-cut across his face, you have the 
man before you ! Know them, indeed ! Why, you 
could pick either of them out of a Derby day! ” 

Rolles eagerly hurried to the dining-room. It was 
as his friend had asserted; it was impossible to mis- 
take the pair in question. Old John Vandeleur was 
of remarkable force of body, and obviously broken to 
the most difficult exercises. He had neither the car- 
riage of a swordsman, nor of a sailor, nor yet of one 
much inured to the saddle; but something made up of 
all these, and the result and expression of many dif- 
ferent habits and dexterities. His features were bold 
and aquiline; his expression arrogant and predatory; 
his whole appearance that of a swift, violent, unscru- 
pulous man of action; and his copious white hair and 
the deep sabre-cut that traversed his nose and temple 
added a note of savagery to a head already remarka- 
ble and menacing in itself. 

In his companion, the Prince of Bohemia, Mr. 
Rolles was astonished to recognize the gentleman w'ho 
had recommended him the study of Gaboriau. Doubt- 
less Prince Florizel, who rarely visited the club, of 


124 


JVEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


which, as of most others, he was an honorary mernbcr, 
had been waiting for John Vandeleur when Simon 
accosted him on the previous evening. 

The other diners had modestly retired into the 
angles of the room, and left the distinguished pair in a 
certain isolation, but the young clergyman was- unre- 
strained by any sentiment of awe, and, marching up, 
took his place at the nearest table. 

The conversation was, indeed, new to the student’s 
ears. The ex-Dictator of Paraguay stated many 
extraordinary experiences in different quarters of the 
world; and the Prince supplied a commentary which, 
to a man of thought, was even more interesting than 
the events themselves. Two forms of experience were 
thus brought together and laid before the young cler- 
gyman; and he did not know which to admire the 
most — the desperate actor or the skilled expert in life; 
the man who spoke boldly of his own deeds and perils, 
or the man who seemed, like a god, to know all things 
and to have suffered nothing. The manner of each 
aptly fitted with his part in the discourse. The Dicta- 
tor indulged in brutalities alike of speech and gesture; 
his hand opened and shut and fell roughly on the table; 
and his voice was loud and heady. The Prince, on 
the other hand, seemed the very type of urbane docil- 
ity and quiet; the least movement, the least inflection, 
had with him a weightier significance than all the 
shouts and pantomime of his companion; and if ever, 
as must frequently have been the case, he described 
some experience personal to himself, it was so aptly 
dissimulated as to pass unnoticed with the rest. 

At length the talk wandered on to the late robberies 
and the Rajah’s Diamond. 

“That diamond would be better in the sea,’’ 
observed Prince Florizel. 

“As a Vandeleur,’’ replied the Dictator, “ your High- 
ness may imagine my dissent.’’ 

“ I speak on grounds of public policy,’’ pursued the 
Prince. “Jewels so valuable should be reserved for 


THE RA JAirS DIA MOND. 


125 


the collection of a Prince or the treasury of a great 
nation. To hand them about among the common 
sort of men is to set a price on Virtue’s head; and if 
the Rajah of Kashgar — a Prince, I understand, of 
great enlightenment — desired vengeance upon the men 
of Europe, he could hardly have gone more effica- 
ciously about his purpose than by sending us this 
apple of discord. There is no honesty too robust for 
such a trial. I myself, who have many duties and 
privileges of my own — I myself, Mr. Vandaleur, could 
scarcely handle the intoxicating crystal and be safe. 
As for you, who are a diamond-hunter by taste and 
profession, I do not believe there is a crime in the 
calendar you would not perpetrate — I do not believe 
you have a friend in the world whom you would not 
eagerly betray — I do not know if you have a family, 
but if you have I declare you would sacrifice your 
children — and all this for what? Not to be richer, 
nor to have more comforts or more respect, but 
simply to call this diamond yours for a year or two 
until you die, and now and again to open a safe and 
look at it as one looks at a picture.” 

“ It is true,” replied Vandeleur. “ I have hunted 
most things, from men and women down to mosqui- 
tos; I have dived for coral; I have followed both 
whales and tigers; and a diamond is the tallest 
quarry of the lot. It has beauty and worth; it alone 
can properly reward the ardors of the chase. At 
this moment, as 'your Highness may fancy, I am 
upon the trail; I have a sure knack, a wide expe- 
rience ; I know every stone of price in my brother’s 
collection as a shepherd know^ his sheep; and I 
wish I may die if I do not recover them every 
one ! ” 

“Sir Thomas Vandeleur will hsiye great cause to 
thank you,” said the Prince. 

“ I am not so sure,” returned the Dictator, with a 
laugh. “ One of the Vandeleurs will. Thomas or 
John — Peter or Paul — we ace all apostles.” 


126 


NE W ARABIAN’ NIGHTS. 


“ I did not catch your observation,” said the Prince 
with some disgust. 

And at the same moment the waiter informed Mr. 
Vandeleur that his cab was at 'the door. 

Mr. Rolles glanced at the‘clock, and saw that he 
also must be moving; and the coincidence struck 
him sharply and unpleasantly, for he desired to see 
no more of the diamond hunter. 

Much study having somewhat shaken the young 
man’s nerves, he was in the habit of traveling in the 
most luxurious manner^ and for the present journey 
he had taken a sofa in the sleeping carriage. 

“ You will be very comfortable,” said the guard; 
“ there is no one in your compartment, and only one 
old gentleman in the other end.” 

It was close upon the hour, and the tickets were 
being examined, when Mr. Rolles beheld this other 
fellow-passenger ushered by several porters into his 
place; certainly, there was not another man in the 
world whom he would not have preferred — for it 
was old John Vandeleur, the ex-Dictator. 

The sleeping carriages on the Great Northern line 
were divided into three compartments — one at each 
end for travelers, and one in the centre fitted with 
the conveniences of a lavatory. A door running in 
grooves separated each of the others from the lava- 
tory; but as there were neither bolts nor locks, the 
whole suite was practically common ground. 

When Mr. Rolles had studied his position, he per- 
ceived himself without defence. If the Dictator chose 
to pay him a visit in the course of the night, he 
could do no less than receive it; he had no means of 
fortification, and lay open to attack as if he had been 
lying in the fields. This situation caused him some 
agony of mind. He recalled with alarm the boastful 
statements of his fellow-traveler across the dining- 
table, and the professions of immorality which he had 
heard him offering to the disgusted Prince. Some 
persons, he remembered to have read, are endowed 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


t27 


with a singular quickness of perception for the neigh- 
borhood of precious metals; through walls and even 
at considerable distances they are said to divine the 
l)resence of gold. Might it not be the same with 
diamonds ? he wondered; and if so, who was more 
likely to enjoy this transcendental sense than the per- 
son who gloried in the appellation of the Diamond 
Hunter? From such a man he recognized that he 
had everything to fear, and longed eagerly for the arri- 
val of the day. 

In the meantime he neglected no precaution, con- 
cealed his diamond in the most internal pocket of a 
system of great coats, and devoutly recommended 
himself to the care of Providence. 

The train pursued its usual even and rapid course; 
and nearly half the journey had been accomplished 
before slumber began to triumph over uneasiness in 
the breast of Mr. Rolles. For some time he resisted 
its influence; but it grew upon him more and more, 
and a little before York he was fain to stretch him- 
self upon one of the couches and suffer his eyes to 
close; and almost at the same instant consciousness 
deserted the young clergyman. His last thought was 
of his terrifying neighbor. 

When he awoke it was still pitch dark, except for the 
flicker of the veiled lamp ; and the continual roaring 
and oscillation testified to the unrelaxed velocity of the 
train. He sat upright in a panic, for he had been tor- 
mented by the most uneasy dreams ; it was some 
seconds before he recovered his self-command '; and 
even after he had resumed a recumbent attitude sleep 
continued to flee him, and he lay awake with his brain 
in a state of violent agitation, and his eyes fixed upon 
the lavatory door. He pulled his clerical felt hat over 
his brow still farther to shield him from the light ; and 
he adopted the usual expedients, such as counting a 
thousand or banishing thought, by which experienced 
invalids are accustomed to woo the approach of sleep. 
In the case of Mr. Rolles they proved one and all 


128 


ATEIV ARABIAJSr NIGHTS. 


vain ; he was harassed by a dozen different anxieties — > 
the old man in the other end of the carriage haunted 
him in the most alarming shapes; and in whatever atti- 
tude he chose to lie the diamond in his pocket occa- 
sioned him a sensible physical distress. It burned, it 
was too- large, it bruised his ribs ; and there were infini- 
tesimal fractions of a second in which he had half a 
mind to throw it from the window. 

While he was thus lying, a strange incident took 
place. 

The sliding-door into the lavatory stirred a little, 
and then a little more, and was finally drawn back for 
the space of about twenty inches. The lamp in the 
lavatory was unshaded, and in the lighted aperture 
thus disclosed, Mr. Rolles could see the head of Mr. 
Vandeleur in an attitude of deep attention. He was 
conscious that the gaze of the Dictator rested intently 
on his own face ; and the instinct of self-preservation 
moved him to hold his breath, to refrain from the least 
movement, and keeping his eyes lowered, to watch his 
visitor from underneath the lashes. After about a 
moment, the head was withdrawn and the door of the 
lavatory replaced. 

The Dictator had not come to attack, but to observe; 
his action was not that of a man threatening another, 
but that of a man who was himself threatened; if Mr. 
Rolles was afraid of him, it appeared that he, in his 
turn, was not quite easy on the score of Mr. Rolles. He 
had come, it would seem, to make sure that his only 
fellow-traveler was asleep ; and, when satisfied on that 
point, he had at once withdrawn. 

The clergyman leaped to his feet. The extreme of 
terror had given place to a reaction of foolhardy daring. 
He reflected that the rattle of the flying train concealed 
all other sounds, and determined, come what might, to 
return the visit he had just received. Divesting him- 
self of his cloak, which might have interfered with the 
freedom of his action, he entered the lavatory and 
paused to listen. As he had expected, there was noth- 


THE RAJAH' DIAMOND. 


129 


mg to be heard above the roar of the train’s progress ; 
and laying his hand on the door at the farther side, he 
proceeded cautiously to draw it back for about six 
inches. Then he stopped, and could not contain an 
ejaculation of surprise. 

John Vandeleur wore a fur traveling cap with lap- 
pets to protect his ears ; and this may have combined 
with the sound of the express to keep him in ignorance 
of what was going forward. It is certain, at least, 
that he did not raise his head, but continued without 
interruption to pursue his strange employment. Between 
his feet stood an open hat-box; in one hand he held the 
sleeve of his sealskin greatcoat; in the other a formid- 
able knife, with which he had just slit up the lining 
of the sleeve. Mr. Rolles had read of persons carry- 
ing money in a belt ; and as he had no acquaintance 
with any but cricket-belts, he had never been able 
rightly to conceive how this was managed. But here 
was a stranger thing before his eyes ; for John Vande- 
leur, it appeared, carried diamonds in the lining of his 
sleeve ; and even as the young clergyman gazed, he 
could see one glittering brilliant drop after another into 
the hat-box. 

He stood riveted to the spot, following this unusual 
business with his eyes. The diamonds were, for the 
most part, small, and not easily distinguishable either 
in shape or fire. Suddenly the Dictator appeared to 
find a difficulty; he employed both hands and stooped 
over his task ; but it was not until after considerable 
manoeuvring that he extricated a large tiara of dia- 
monds from the lining, and held it up for some seconds' 
examination before he placed it with the others in the 
hat-box. The tiara was a ray of light to Mr. Rolles ; 
he immediately recognized it for a part of the treasure 
stolen from Harry Hartley by the loiterer. There was 
no room for mistake ; it was exactly as the detective 
had described it ; there were the ruby stars, with a 
great emerald in the centre; there were the interlacing 
crescents ; and there were the pear-shaped pendants, 


130 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


each a single stone, which gave a special value to Lady 
Vandeleur’s tiara. 

Mr. Rolles was hugely relieved. The Dictator was 
as deeply in the affair as he was; neither could tell 
tales upon the other. In the first glow of happiness, 
the clergyman suffered a deep sigh to escape him; 
and as his bosom had become choked and his throat 
dry during his previous suspense, the sigh was followed 
by a cough. 

Mr. Vandeleur looked up; his face contracted with 
the blackest and most deadly passion; his eyes opened 
widely, and his under jaw dropped in an astonishment 
that was upon the brink of fury. By an instinctive 
movement he had covered the hat-box with the coat. 
For half a minute the two men stared upon each other 
in silence. It was not a long interval, but it sufficed 
for Mr. Rolles; he was one of those who think swiftly 
on dangerous occasions; he decided on a course of 
action of a singularly daring nature; and although he 
felt he was setting his life upon the hazard, he was the 
first to break silence. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said he. 

The Dictator shivered slightly, and when he spoke 
his voice was hoarse. 

“ What do you want here ? ” he asked. 

“ I take a particular interest in diamonds,” replied 
Mr. Rolles, with an air of perfect self-possession. 
“ Two connoisseurs should be acquainted. I have here 
a trifle of my own which may perhaps serve for an 
introduction.” 

And so saying, he quietly took the case from his 
pocket, showed the Rajah’s Diamond to the Dictator 
for an instant, and replaced it in security. 

“ It was once your brother’s,” he added. 

‘John Vandeleur continued to regard him with a look 
of -almost painful amazement; but he neither spoke 
nor moved. 

“ I was pleased to observe,” resumed the young man, 
“that we have gems from the same collection.” 


THE RAJAI/'S DIAMOND. 


131 


The Dictator’s surprise overpowered him. 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said; “ I begin to perceive 
that I am growing old ! I am positively not prepared 
for little incidents like this. But set my mind at rest 
upon one point: do my eyes deceive me, or are you 
indeed a parson ? ” 

“ I am in holy orders,” answered Mr. Rolles. 

“ Well,” cried the other, “ as long as I live I will 
never hear another word against the cloth ! ” 

“You flatter me,” said Mr. Rolles. 

“Pardon me,” replied Vandeleur; “pardon me, 
young man. You are no coward, but it still remains 
to be seen whether you are not the worst of fools. 
Perhaps,” he continued, leaning back upon his seat, 
“ perhaps you w'ould oblige me with a few particulars. 
I must suppose you had some object in the stupefying 
impudence of your proceedings, and I confess I have 
a curiosity to know it.” 

“ It is very simple,” replied the clergyman; “ it pro- 
ceeds from my great inexperience of life.” 

“ I shall be glad to be persuaded,” answered Van- 
deleur. 

Whereupon Mr. Rolles told him the whole story of 
his connection with the Rajah’s Diamond, from the 
time he found it in Raeburn’s garden to the time when 
he left London in the Flying Scotchman. He added 
a brief sketch of his feelings and thoughts during the 
journey, and concluded in these words: — 

“ When I recognized the tiara I knew we were in 
the same attitude towards Society, and this inspired 
me w'ith a hope, which I trust you will say was not ill- 
founded, that you might become in some sense my 
partner in the difficulties and, of course, the profits of 
my situation. To one of your special knowledge and 
obviously great experience the negotiation of the dia- 
mond would give but little trouble, while to me it was 
a matter of impossibility. On the other part, I judged 
that I might lose nearly as much by cutting the dia- 
mond, and that not improbably with an unskilful hand. 


132 


NE IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


as might enable me to pay you with proper generosity 
for your assistance. The subject was a delicate one 
to broach; and perhaps I fell short in delicacy. But 
I must ask you to remember that for me the situation 
was a new one, and I was entirely unacquainted with 
the etiquette in use. I believe without vanity that I 
could have married or baptized you in a very accepta- 
ble manner; but every man has his own aptitudes, and 
this sort of bargain was not among the' list of my 
accomplishments.” 

“I do not wish to flatter you,” replied Vandeleur; 
“ but upon my word, you have an unusual disposition 
for a life of crime. You have more accomplishments 
than you imagine; and though I have encountered a 
number of rogues in different quarters of the world, I 
never met with one so unblushing as yourself. Cheer 
up, Mr. Rolles, you are in the right profession at last ! 
As for helping you, you may command me as you will. 
I have only a day’s business in Edinburgh on a little 
matter for my brother; and once that is concluded, I 
return to Paris, where I usually reside. If you please, 
you may accompany me thither. And before the end 
of a month I believe I shall have brought your little 
business to a satisfactory conclusion.” 

i^At this pointy contrary to all the canons of his art, our 
Arabian Author breaks off the Story of the Young 
Man in Holy Orders. / regret and condemn such 
practices; but I must follow my original, and refer 'the 
reader for the conclusion of Mr. Rolles' s adventures to 
the next number of the cycle, the Story of the House 
WITH THE Green Blinds.) 


THE STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE 
GREEN BLINDS. 


Francis Scrymgeour, a clerk in the Bank of Scot- 
land at Edinburgh, had attained the age of twenty-five 
in a sphere of quiet, creditable, and domestic life. 
His mother died while he was young; but his father, a 
man of sense and probity, had given him an excellent 
education at school, and brought him up at home to 
orderly and frugal habits. Francis, who was of a 
docile and affectionate disposition, profited by these 
advantages with zeal, and devoted himself heart and 
soul to his employment. A walk upon Saturday after- 
noon, an occasional dinner with members of his family, 
and a yearly tour of a fortnight in the Highlands or 
even on the continent of Europe, were his principal 
distractions, and he grew rapidly in favor with his 
superiors, and enjoyed already a salary of nearly two 
hundreds pounds a year, with the prospect of an ulti- 
mate advance to almost double that amount. Few 
young men were more contented, few more willing and 
laborious than Francis Scrymgeour. Sometimes at 
night, when he had read the daily paper, he would play 
upon the flute to amuse his father, for whose qualities 
he entertained a great respect. 

One day he received a note from a well-known firm 
of Writers to the Signet, requesting the favor of an 
immediate interview with him. The latter was marked 
“ Private and Confidential,” and had been addressed 
to him at the bank, instead of at home — two unusual 
circumstances which made him obey the summons with 
the more alacrity. The senior member of the firm, a 
man of much austerity of manner, made him gravely 
welcome, requested him to take a seat, and proceeded 

133 


134 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


to explain the matter in hand in the picked expressions 
of a veteran man of business. A person, who must 
remain nameless, but of whom the lawyer had every 
reason to think well — a man, in short, of some station 
in the country — desired to make Francis an annual 
allowance of five hundred pounds. The capital was to 
be placed under the control of the lawyer’s firm and 
two trustees who must also remain anonymous. There 
were conditions annexed to this liberality, but- he was 
of opinion that his new client would find nothing either 
excessive or dishonorable in the terms; and he repeated 
these two words with emphasis, as though he desired to 
commit himself to nothing more. 

Francis asked their nature. 

“ The conditions,” said the Writer to the Signet, 
“ are, as I have twice remarked, neither dishonorable 
nor excessive. At the same time I cannot conceal from 
you that they are most unusual. Indeed, the whole 
case is very much out of our way; and I should cer- 
tainly have refused it had it not been for the reputa- 
tion of the gentleman who entrusted it to my care, and, 
let me add, Mr. Scrymgeour, the interest I have been 
led to take in yourself by many complimentary and, I 
have no doubt, well-deserved reports.” 

Francis entreated him to be more specific. 

“You connot picture my uneasiness as to these con- 
ditions,” he said. 

“ They are two,” replied the lawyer, “only two; and 
the sum, as you will remember, is five hundred a year 
— and unburthened, I forgot to add, unburdened.” 

And the lawyer raised his eyebrows at him with 
solemn gusto. 

“ The first,” he resumed, “ is of remarkable simpli- 
city. You must be in Paris by the afternoon of Sun- 
day, the 15th; there you will find, at the box-office of 
the Comedie Francaise, a ticket for admission taken in 
your name and waiting you. You are requested to sit 
out the whole performance in the seat provided, and 
that is all.” 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


*35 


“ I should certainly have preferred a week-day, 
replied Francis. “But, after all, once in a way ” 

“ And in Paris, my dear sir,” added the lawyer, 
soothingly. “ I believe I am something of a precisian 
myself, but upon such a consideration, and in Paris, 
I should not hesitate an instant.” 

And the pair laughed pleasantly together. 

“The other is of more importance,” continued the 
Writer to the Signet. It regards your marriage. My 
client, taking a deep interest in your welfare, desires 
to advise you absolutely in the choice of a wife. 
Absolutely, you understand,” he repeated. 

“ Let us be more explicit, if you please,” returned 
Francis. “Am I to marry anyone, maid or widow, 
black or white, whom this invisible person chooses to 
propose ? ” 

“ I was to assure you that suitability of age and 
position should be a principle with your benefactor,” 
replied the lawyer. “As to race, I confess the diffi- 
culty had not occurred to me, and I failed to inquire; 
but if you like I will make a note of it at once, and 
advise you on the earliest opportunity.” 

“Sir,” said Francis, “it remains to be seen whether 
this whole affair is not a most unworthy fraud. The 
circumstances are inexplicable — I had almost said 
incredible; and until I see a little more daylight, and 
some plausible motive, I confess I should be very sorry 
to put a hand to the transaction. I appeal to you in 
this difficulty for information. I must learn what is at 
the bottom of it all. If you do not know, cannot 
guess, or are not at liberty to tell me, I shall take my 
hat and go back to my bank as I came.” 

“I do not know,” answered the lawyer, “but I have 
an excellent guess. Your father, and no one else, is 
at the root of this apparently unnatural business.” 

“My father!” cried Francis, in extreme disdain. 
“ Worthy man, I know every thought of his mind, 
every penny of his fortune ! ” 

‘ You misinterpret my words,” said the lawyer. “ I 


136 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


do not refer to Mr. Scrymgeour, senior; for he is not 
your father. When he and his wife came to Edinburgh, 
you were already nearly one year old, and you had not 
yet been three months in their care. The secret has 
been well kept; but such is the fact. Your father is 
unknown, and I say again that I believe him to be the 
original of the offers I am charged at present to trans- 
mit to you.” 

It would be impossible to exaggerate the astonish- 
ment of Francis Scrymgeour at this unexpected infor- 
mation. He pleaded this confusion to the lawyer. 

“ Sir,” said 'he, “after a piece of news so startling, 
you must grant me some hours for thought. You shall 
know this evening what conclusion I have reached.” 

The lawyer commended his prudence; and Francis, 
excusing himself upon some pretext at the bank, took 
a long walk into the country, and fully considered the 
different steps and aspects of the case. A pleasant 
sense of his own importance rendered him the more 
deliberate; but the issue was from the first not doubt- 
ful. His whole carnal man leaned irresistibly towards 
the five hundred a year, and the strange conditions 
with which it was burdened; he discovered in his heart 
an invincible repugnance to the name of Scrymgeour, 
which he had never hitherto disliked; he began to 
despise the narrow and unromantic interest of his 
former life; and when once his mind was fairly made 
up, he walked with a new feeling of strength and freedom, 
and nourished himself with the gayest anticipations. 

He said but a word to the lawyer, and immediately 
received a check for two quarters’ arrears; for the 
allowance was ante-dated from the first of January. 
With this in his pocket, he walked home. The flat in 
Scotland Street looked mean in his eyes ; his nostrils, 
for the first time, rebelled against the odor of broth; 
and he observed little defects of manner in his adop- 
tive father which filled him with surprise and almost 
with disgust. The next day, he determined, should 
^ee hjrn on lijs way to Paris. 


THE KA JAH ' S DIA MONO. 1 3 7 

In that city, where he arrived long before the 
appointed date, he put up at a modest hotel frequented 
by English and Italians, and devoted himself to 
improvement in the French tongue; for this purpose 
he had a master twice a week, entered into conversa- 
tion with loiterers in the Champs Elysees, and nightly 
frequented the theatre. He had his whole toilette 
fashionably renewed; and was shaved and had his hair 
dressed every morning by a barber in a neighboring 
street. This gave him something of a foreign air, and 
seemed to wipe off the reproach of his past years. 

At length, on the Saturday afternoon, he betook 
himself to the box-office of the theatre in the Rue 
Richelieu. No sooner had he mentioned his name 
than the clerk produced the order in an envelope of 
which the address was scarcely dry. 

“ It has been taken this moment,” said the clerk. 

“Indeed!” said Francis. “May I ask what the 
gentleman was like ?” 

“ Your friend is easy to describe,” replied the 
official. “ He is old and strong and beautiful, with 
white hair and a sabre-cut across his face. You can- 
not fail to recognize so marked a person.” 

“No, indeed,” returned Francis ; “and I thank you 
for your politeness.” 

“ He cannot yet be far distant,” added the clerk. 
“ If you make haste you might still overtake him.” 

Francis did not wait to be twice told ; he ran pre- 
cipitately from the theatre into the middle of the street 
and looked in all directions. More than one white- 
haired man was within sight ; but though he overtook 
each of them in succession, all wanted the sabre-cut. 
For nearly half-an-hour he tried one street after 
another in the neighborhood, until at length, recogniz- 
ing the folly of continued search, he started on a walk 
to compose his agitated feelings ; for this proximity of 
an encounter with him to whom he could not doubt 
he owed the day had profoundly moved the young 
man. 


JV£W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


138 

It chanced that his way lay up the Rue Drouot and 
thence up the Rue des Martyrs ; and chance, in this 
case, served him better than all the forethought in the 
world. For on the outer boulevard he saw two men 
in earnest colloquy upon a seat. One was dark, young, 
and handsome, secularly dressed, but with an indelible 
clerical stamp ; the other answered in every particular 
to the description given him by the clerk. Francis 
felt his heart beat high in his bosom ; he knew he was 
now about to hear the voice of his father ; and making 
a wide circuit, he noiselessly took his place behind the 
couple in question, who were too much interested in 
their talk to observe much else. As Francis had 
expected, the conversation was conducted in the Eng- 
lish language. 

“ Your suspicions begin to annoy me, Rolles,” said 
the older man. “ I tell you I am doing my utmost ; 
a man cannot lay his hand on millions in a moment. 
Have I not taken you up, a mere stranger, out of 
pure good will ? Are you not living largely on my 
bounty ?” 

“ On your advances, Mr. Vandeleur,” corrected the 
other. 

“ Advances, if you choose ; and interest instead of 
good-will, if you prefer it,” returned Vandeleur, angrily, 
“ I am not here to pick expressions. Business is busi- 
ness ; and your business, let me remind you, is too 
muddy for such airs. Trust me, or leave me alone and 
find someone else ; but let us have an end, for God’s 
sake, of your jeremiads.” 

“ I am beginning to learn the world,” replied the 
other, “ and I see that you have every reason to play 
me false, and not one to deal honestly. I am not here 
to pick expressions either ; you wish the diamond for 
yourself ; you know you do — you dare not deny it. 
Have you not already forged my name, and searched 
my lodging in my absence ? I understand the cause 
of your delays ; you are lying in wait ; you are the 
diamond-hunter, forsooth ; and sooner or later, by fair 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


139 


means or foul, you’ll lay your hands upon it. I tell 
you, it must stop ; push me much further and I promise 
you a surprise.” 

“ It does not become you to use threats,” returned 
Vandeleur. “ Two can play at that. My brother is 
here in Paris ; the police, are on the alert ; and if you 
persist in wearying me with your caterwauling, I will 
arrange a little astonishment for you, Mr. Rolles. But 
mine shall be once and for all. Do you understand, or 
would you prefer me to tell it 'you in Hebrew ? There 
is an end to all things, and you have come to the end 
of my patience. Tuesday, at seven ; not a day, not 
an hour sooner, not the least part of a second, if it 
were to save your life. And if you do not choose to 
wait, you may go to the bottomless pit for me, and wel- 
come.” 

And so saying, the Dictator arose from the bench, 
and marched off in the direction of Montmartre, shak- 
ing his head and swinging his cane with a most furious 
air ; while his companion remained where he was, in 
an attitude of great dejection. 

Francis was at the pitch of surprise and horror ; his 
sentiments had been shocked to the last degree ; the 
hopeful tenderness with which he had taken his place 
upon the bench was transformed into repulsion and 
despair ; old Mr. Scrymgeour, he reflected, was a far 
more kindly and creditable parent than this dangerous 
and violent intriguer ; but he retained his presence of 
mind, and suffered not a moment to elapse before he 
was on the trail of the Dictator. 

That gentleman’s fury carried him forward at a brisk 
pace, and he was so completely occupied in his angry 
thoughts that he never so much as cast a look behind 
him till he reached his own door. 

His house stood high up in the Rue Lepic, command- 
ing a view of all Paris and enjoying the pure air of the 
heights. It was two stories high, with green blinds and 
shutters ; and all the windows looking on the street 
were hermetically closed. Tops of trees showed over the 


14 © 


ATE IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


high garden wall, and the wall was protected by 
chevaux-de-frise. The Dictator paused a moment while 
he searched his pocket for a key ; and then, opening 
a gate, disappeared within the enclosure. 

Francis looked about him ; the neighborhood was 
very lonely ; the house isolated in its garden. It 
seemed as if his observation must here come to an 
abrupt end. A second glance, however, showed him a 
tall house next door presenting a gable to the garden, 
and in this gable a single window. He passed to the 
front and saw a ticket offering unfurnished lodgings 
by the month ; and, on inquiry, the room which com- 
manded the Dictator’s garden proved to be one of 
those to let. Francis did not hesitate a moment ; he 
took the room, paid an advstnce upon the rent, and 
returned to his hotel to seek his baggage. 

The old man with the sabre-cut might or might not 
be his father ; he might or he might not be on the 
true scent ; but he was certainly on the edge of an 
exciting mystery, and he promised himself that he 
would not relax his observation until he had got to the 
bottom of the secret. 

From the window of his new apartment Francis 
Scrymgeour commanded a complete view into the gar- 
den of the house with the green blinds. Immediately 
below him a very comely chestnut with wide boughs 
sheltered a pair of rustic tables where people might 
dine in the height of summer. On all sides save one 
a dense vegetation concealed the soil : but there, 
between the tables and the house, he saw a patch of 
gravel walk leading from the veranda to the garden- 
gate. Studying the places from between the boards 
of the Venetian shutter, which he durst not open for 
fear of attracting attention, Francis observed but little 
to indicate the manners of the inhabitants, and that 
little argued no more than a close reserve and a taste 
for solitude. The garden was conventual, the house 
had the air of a prison. The green blinds were all 
drawn down upon the outside ; the door into the ver- 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


141 


anda was closed ; the garden, as far as he could see it, 
was left entirely to itself in the evening sunshine. A 
modest curl of smoke from a single chimney alone tes* 
tified to the presence of living people. 

In order that he might not be entirely idle, and to 
give a certain color to his way of life, Francis had pur- 
chased Euclid’s Geometry in French, which he set 
himself to copy and translate on the top of his port- 
manteau and. seated on the floor against the wall ; for 
he was equally without chair or table. From time to 
time he would rise and cast a glance into the enclosure 
of the house with the green blinds ; but the windows 
remained obstinately closed and the garden empty. 

Only late in the evening did anything occur to 
reward his continued attention. Between nine and 
ten the sharp tinkle of a bell aroused him from a fit of 
dozing ; and he sprang to his observatory in time to 
hear an important noise of locks being opened and 
bars removed, and to see Mr. Vandeleur, carrying a 
lantern and clothed in a flowing robe of black velvet 
with a skull-cap to match, issue from under the veranda 
and proceed leisurely toward the garden-gate. The 
sound of bolts and bars was then repeated ; and a 
moment after Francis perceived the Dictator escorting 
into the house, in the mobile light of the lantern, an 
individual of the lowest and most despicable appearance. 

Half-an-hour afterward the visitor was reconducted 
to the street ; and Mr. Vandeleur, setting his light 
upon one of the rustic tables, finished a cigar with 
great deliberation under the foliage of the chestnut. 
Francis, peering through a clear space among the 
leaves, was able to follow his gestures as he threw away 
the ash or enjoyed a copious inhalation ; and beheld 
a cloud upon the old man’s brow and a forcible action 
of the lips, which testified to some deep and probably 
painful train of thought. The cigar was already 
almost at an end, when the voice of a young girl was 
heard suddenly crying the hour from the interior of 
the house. 


142 


A^JSiy AEABIAiV NIGHTS. 


“ In a moment,” replied John Vandeleur. 

And, with that, he threw away the stump and, taking 
up the lantern, sailed away under the veranda for the 
night. As soon as the door was closed, absolute dark- 
ness fell upon the house ; Francis might try his eye- 
sight as much as he pleased, he could not detect so 
much as a single chink of light below a blind ; and he 
concluded, with great good sense, that the bed cham- 
bers were all upon the other side. 

Early the next morning (for he was early awake after 
an uncomfortable night upon the floor), he saw cause 
to adopt a different explanation. The blinds rose, one 
after another, by means of a spring in the interior, and 
disclosed steel shutters such as we see on the front of 
shops ; these in their turn were rolled up by a similar 
contrivance ; and for the space of about an hour, the 
chambers were left open to the morning air. At the 
end of that time Mr. Vandeleur, with his own hand, 
once more closed the shutters and replaced the blinds 
from within. 

While Francis was still marvelling at these precau- 
tions, the door opened and a young girl came forth to 
look about her in the garden. It was not two minutes 
before she re-entered the house, but even in that short 
time he saw enough to convince him that she possessed 
the most unusual attractions. His curiosity was not 
only highly excited by this incident, but his spirits 
were improved to a still more notable degree. The 
alarming manners and more than equivocal life of his 
father ceased from that moment to prey upon his 
mind ; from that moment he embraced his new family 
with ardor ; and whether the young lady should prove 
his sister or his wife, he felt convinced she was an 
angel in disguise. So much was this the case that he 
was seized with a sudden horror when he reflected 
how little he really knew, and how possible it was that 
he followed the wrong person when he followed Mr. 
Vandeleur. 

The porter, whom he consulted, could afford him 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


143 


little information; but, such as it was, it had a myste- 
rious and questionable sound. The person next door 
was an English gentleman of extraordinary wealth, and 
proportionately eccentric in his tastes and habits. He 
possessed great collections, which he kept in the house 
beside him; and it was to protect these that he had 
fitted the place with steel shutters, elaborate fastenings 
and chevaux-de-frise along the garden wall. He lived 
much alone, in spite of some strange visitors with 
whom, it seemed, he had business to transact; and 
there was no one in the house except Mademoiselle 
and an old woman servant. 

“ Is Mademoiselle his daughter ? ” inquired Francis. 

“ Certainly,” replied the porter. “ Mademoiselle is 
the daughter of the house; and strange it is to see how 
she is made to work. For all his riches, it is she who 
goes to market; and every day in the week you may see 
her going by with a basket on her arm.” 

“ And the collections ? ” asked the other, 

“ Sir,” said the man, “ they are immensely valuable. 
More I cannot tell you. Since M. de Vandeleur’s 
arrival no one in the quarter has so much as passed 
the door.” 

“ Suppose not,” returned Francis, “you must surely 
have some notion what these famous galleries contain. 
Is it pictures, silks, statues, jewels, or what ? ” 

“ My faith, sir,” said the fellow with a shrug, “ it 
might be carrots, and still I could not tell you. How 
should I know ? The house is kept like a garrison, as 
you perceive.” 

And then as Francis was returning disappointed to 
his room, the porter called him back. 

“I have just remembered, sir,” said he. “M. de 
Vandeleur has been in all parts of the world, and I 
once heard the old woman declare that he had brought 
many diamonds back with him. If that be the truth, 
there must be a fine show behind those shutters.” 

By an early hour on Sunday Francis was in his place 
at the theatre. The seat which had been taken for 


144 


ARABIA AT NIGHTS. 


him was only two or three numbers from the left-hand 
side, and directly opposite one of the lower boxes. As 
the seat had been specially chosen there was doubtless 
something to be learned from its position; and he 
judged by an instinct that the box upon his right was, 
in some way or other, to be connected with the drama 
in which he ignorantly played a part. Indeed it was 
so situated that its occupants could safely observe him 
from beginning to end of the piece, if they were so 
minded; while, profiting by the depth, they could 
screen themselves sufficiently well from any counter- 
examination on his side. He promised himself not to 
leave it for a moment out of sight; and whilst he 
scanned the rest of the theatre, or made a show of 
attending to the business of the stage, he always kept 
a corner of an eye upon the empty box. 

The second act had been some time in progress, and 
was even drawing towards a close, when the door 
opened and two persons entered and ensconced them- 
selves in the darkest of the shade. Francis could 
hardly control his emotion. It was Mr, Vandeleur and 
his daughter. The blood came and went in his arteries 
and veins with stunning activity; his ears sang; his 
head turned. He dared not look lest he should awake 
suspicion; his play-bill, which he kept reading from 
end to end and over and over again, turned from white 
to red before his eyes; and when he cast a glance upon 
the stage, it seemed incalculably far away, and he 
found the voices and gestures of the actors to the last 
degree impertinent and absurd. 

From time to time he risked a momentary look in 
the direction which principally arrested him; and once 
at least he felt certain that his eyes encountered those 
of the young girl. A shock passed over his body, and 
he saw all the colors of the rainbow. What would he 
not have given to overhear what passed between the 
Vandeleurs? What would he not have given for the 
courage to take up his opera-glass and steadily inspect 
their attitude and expression ? There, for aught he 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. I45 

knew, his whole life was being decided — and he not 
able to interfere, not able even to follow the debate, 
but condemned to sit and suffer where he was, in 
impotent anxiety. 

At last the act came to an end. The curtain fell, 
and the people around him began to leave their places 
for the interval. It was only natural that he should 
follow their example ; and if he did so, it was not only 
natural but necessary that he should pass immediately 
•in front of the box in question. Summoning all his 
courage, but keeping his eyes lowered, Francis drew 
near the spot. His progress was slow, for the old gen- 
tleman before him moved with incredible deliberation, 
wheezing as he went. What was he to do t Should he 
address the Vandeleurs by name as he went by ? 
Should he take the flower from his button-hole and 
throw it into the box ? Should he raise his face and 
direct one long and affectionate look upon the lady who 
was either his sister or his betrothed ? As he found 
himself thus struggling among so many alternatives, he 
had a vision of his old equable existence in the bank, 
and was assailed by a thought of regret for the past. 

By this time he had arrived directly opposite the 
box ; and although he was still undetermined what to 
do or whether to do anything, he turned his head and 
lifted his eyes. No sooner had he done so than he 
uttered a cry of disappointment and remained rooted 
to the spot. The box was empty. During his slow 
advance Mr. Vandeleur and his daughter had quietly 
slipped away. 

A polite person in his rear reminded him that he was 
stopping the path ; and he moved on again with 
mechanical footsteps, and suffered the crowd to carry 
him unresisting out of the theatre. Once in the street, 
the pressure ceasing, he came to a halt, and the cool 
night air speedily restored him to the possession of his 
faculties. He was surprised to find that his head 
ached violently, and that he remembered not one word 
of the two acts which he had witnessed. As the excite- 


146 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ment wore away, it was succeeded by ‘an overweening 
appetite for sleep, and he hailed a cab and drove to 
his lodging in a state of extreme exhaustion and some 
disgust of life. 

Next morning he lay in wait for Miss Vandeleur on 
her road to market, and by eight o’clock beheld her 
stepping down a lane. She was simply, and even 
poorly, attired ; but in the carriage of her head and 
body there was something flexible and noble that would 
have lent distinction to the meanest toilette. Even- 
her basket, so aptly did she carry it, became her like 
an ornament. It seemed to Francis, as he slipped into 
a doorway, that the sunshine followed and the shadows 
fled before her as she walked ; and he was conscious, 
for the first time, of a bird singing in a cage above the 
lane. 

He suffered her to pass the doorway, and then, 
coming forth once more, addressed her by name from 
behind. 

“ Miss Vandeleur,” said he. 

She turned and, when she saw who he was, became 
deadly pale. 

Pardon me,” he continued ; “ Heaven knows I had 
no will to startle you ; and, indeed, there should be 
nothing startling in the presence of one who wishes 
you so well as I do. And, believe me, I am acting 
rather from necessity than choice. We have many 
things in common, and I am sadly in the dark. There 
is much that I should be doing, and my hands are tied. 
I do not know even what to feel, nor who are my 
friends and enemies.” 

She found her voice with an effort. 

“ I do not know who you are,” she said. 

“ Ah, yes ! Miss Vandeleur, you do,” returned 
Francis ; “better than I do myself. Indeed it is on 
that, above all, that I seek light. Tell me what you 
know,” he pleaded. “ Tell me who I am, who you are, 
and how our destinies are intermixed. Give me a little 
help with my life. Miss Vandeleur — only a word or two 


THE RAJAH'S DIA MONO. 


147 


to guide me, only the name of my father, if you will — 
and I shall be grateful and content.” 

I will not attempt to deceive you,” she replied. “ I 
know who you are, but I am not at liberty to say.” 

“ Tell me, at least, that you have forgiven my pre- 
sumption, and I shall wait with all the patience I have,” 
he said. “If I am not to know, I must do without. 
It is cruel, but I can bear more upon a push. Only do 
not add to my troubles the thought that I have made 
an enemy of you.” 

“ You did only what was natural,” she said, “ and I 
have nothing to forgive you. Farewell.” 

“ Is it to be farewell ?" he asked. 

“Nay, that I do not know myself,” she answered. 
“ Farewell for the present, if you like.” 

And with these words she was gone. 

Francis returned to his lodging in a state of consid- 
erable commotion of mind. He made the most' trifling 
progress with his Euclid for that forenoon, and was 
more often at the window than at his improvised 
writing-table. But beyond seeing the return of Miss 
Vandeleur, and the meeting between her and her father, 
who was smoking a Trichinopoli cigar in the verandah, 
there was nothing notable in the neighborhood of the 
house with the green blinds before the time of the mid- 
day meal. The young man hastily allayed his appetite 
in a neighboring restaurant, and returned with the 
speed of unallayed curiosity to the house- in the Rue 
Lepic. A mounted servant was leading a saddle- 
horse to and fro before the garden wall ; and the por- 
ter of Francis’s lodging was smoking a pipe against the 
door-post, absorbed in contemplation of the livery and 
the steeds. 

“Look!” he cried to the young man, “what fine 
cattle! what an elegant costume! They belong to the 
brother of M. de Vandeleur, who is now within upon 
a visit. He is a great man, a general, in your country; 
^nd you doubtless know him well by reputation.” 

I confess,” returned Francis, “that I have never 


148 


N£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


heard of General Vandeleur before. We have many 
officers of that grade, and my pursuits have been exclu- 
sively civil. ” 

“ It is he,” replied the porter, “ who lost the great 
diamond of the Indies. Of that at least you must 
have read often in the papers.” 

As soon as Francis could disenpge himself from 
the porter he ran up stairs and hurried to the window. 
Immediately below the clear space in the chestnut 
leaves, the two gentlemen were seated in conversation 
over a cigar. The General, a red, military-looking 
man, offered some traces of a family resemblance to 
his brother; he had something of the same features, 
something, although very little, of the same free and 
powerful carriage; but he was older, smaller, and more 
common in air; his likeness was that of a caricature, 
and he seemed altogether a poor and debile being by 
the side of the Dictator. 

They spoke in tones so low, leaning over the table 
with every appearance of interest, that Francis could 
catch no more than a word or two on an occasion. 
For as little as he heard, he was convinced that the 
conversation turned upon himself and his own career; 
several times the name of Scrymgeour reached his 
ear, for it was easy to distinguish, and still more fre- 
quently he fancied he could distinguish the name 
Francis. 

At length the General, as if in a hot anger, broke 
forth into several violent exclamations. 

“ Francis Vandeleur! ” he cried, accentuating the 
last word. “ Francis Vandeleur, I tell you.” 

The Dictator made a movement of his whole body, 
half affirmative, half contemptuous, but his answer 
was maudible to the young man. 

Was he the Francis Vandeleur in question ? he won- 
dered. Were they discussing the name under which 
he was to be married ? Or was the whole affair a 
dream and a delusion of his own conceit and self- 
absorption ? 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. T49 

After another interval of inaudible talk, dissension 
seemed again to arise between the couple underneath 
the chestnut, and again the General raised his voice 
angrily so as to be audible to Francis. 

“ My wife ? ” he cried. '' I have done with my wife 
for good. I will not hear her name. I am sick of her 
very name.*' 

And he swore aloud and begt the table with his fist. 

The Dictator appeared, by his gestures, to pacify 
him after a paternal fashion; and a little after he con- 
ducted him to the garden-gate. The pair shook hands 
affectionately enough; but as soon as the door had 
closed behind his visitor, John Vandeleur fell into a fit 
of laughter which sounded unkindly and even devilish 
in the ears of Francis Scrymgeour. 

So another day had passed, and little more learnt. But 
the young man remembered that the morrow was 
Tuesday, and promised himself some curious discover- 
ies; all might be well, or all might be ill; he was sure, 
at least, to glean some curious information, and, per- 
haps, by good luck, get at the heart of the mystery 
which surrounded his father and his family. 

As the hour of the dinner drew near many prepar- 
ations were made in the garden of the house with the 
green blinds. The table which was partly visible to 
Francis through the chestnut leaves was destined to 
serve as a sideboard, and carried relays of plates and 
the materials for salad: the other, which was almost 
entirely concealed, had been set apart for the diners, 
and Francis could catch glimpses of white cloth and 
silver plate. , 

Mr. Rolles arrived, punctual to the minute; he 
looked like a man upon his guard, and spoke low and 
sparingly. The Dictator, on the other hand, appeared 
to enjoy an unusual flow of spirits; his laugh, which 
was youthful and pleasant to hear, sounded frequently 
from the garden; by the modulation and the changes 
of his voice it was obvious that he told many droll 
stories and imitated the accents of a variety of differ- 


15 ° 


JVBIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ent nations; and before he and the young clergyman 
had finished their vermouth all feeling of distrust was 
at an end, and they were talking together like a pair of 
school companions. 

At length Miss Vandeleur made her appearance, 
carrying the soup-tureen. Mr. Rolles ran to offer her 
assistance, which she laughingly refused; and there 
was an interchange of pleasantries among the trio 
which seemed to have reference to this primitive man- 
ner of waiting by one of the company. 

“ One is more at one’s ease,” Mr. Vandeleur was 
heard to declare. 

Next moment they were all three in their places, 
and Francis could see as little as he could hear of 
what passed ; but the dinner seemed to go merrily ; 
there was a perpetual babble of voices and sound of 
knives^ and forks below the chestnut ; and Francis, 
who had no more than a roll to gnaw, was affected 
with envy by the comfort and deliberation of the meal. 
The party lingered over one dish after another, and then 
over a delicate dessert, with a bottle of old wine care- 
fully uncorked by the hand of the Dictator himself. 
As it began to grow dark a lamp was set upon the 
table and a couple of candles on the sideboard ; for 
the night was perfectly pure, starry, and windless. 
Light overflowed besides from the door and window in 
the verandah, so that the garden was fairly illuminated 
and the leaves twinkled in the darkness. 

For perhaps the tenth time Miss Vandeleur entered 
the house ; and on this occasion she returned with the 
coffee tray, which she placed upon the sideboard. At 
the same moment her father rose from his seat. 

“The coffee is my province,” Francis heard him 
say. 

And next moment he saw his supposed father stand- 
ing by the sideboard in the light of the candles. 

Talking over his shoulder all the while, Mr. Van- 
deleur poured out two cups of the brown stimulant, 
and then, by a rapid act of prestidigitation, emptied the 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


151 

contents of a tiny phial into the smaller one of the two. 
The thing was so swiftly done that even Francis, who 
looked straight into his face, had hardly time to per- 
ceive the movement before it was completed. And 
next instant, and still laughing, Mr. Vandeleur had 
turned again towards the table with a cup in either 
hand. 

“ We have done with this,” said he, “ we may expect 
our famous Hebrew.” 

It would be impossible to depict the confusion and 
distress of Francis Scrymgeour. He saw foul play 
going forward before his eyes, and he felt bound to 
interfere, but knew not how. It might be a mere 
pleasantry, and then how should he look if he were to 
offer an unnecessary warning ? Or again, if it were 
serious, the criminal might be his own father, and then 
how should he not lament if he were to bring ruin on 
the author of his days ? For the first time he became 
coQscious of his own position as a spy. To wait 
inactive at such a juncture and with such a conflict of 
sentiments in his bosom was to suffer the most acute 
torture ; he clung to the bars of the shutters, his heart 
beat fast and with irregularity, and he felt a strong 
sweat break forth upon his body. 

Several minutes passed. 

He seemed to perceive the conversation die away 
and grow less and less in vivacity and volume ; but 
still no sign of any alarming or even notable event. 

Suddenly the ring of a glass breaking was followed 
by a faint and dull sound, as of a person who should 
have fallen forward with his head upon the table. At 
the same moment a piercing scream rose from the 
garden. 

“ What have you done t ” cried Miss Vandeleur. 
“ He is dead ! ” 

The Dictator replied in a violent whisper, so strong 
and sibilant that every word was audible to the watcher 
at the window. 

“ Silence ! ” said Mr. Vandeleur ; “ the man is as 


^52 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


well as I am. Take him by the heels whilst I carry 
him by the shoulders,” 

Francis heard Miss Vandeleur break forth into a 
passion of tears. 

“ Do you hear what I say ? ” resumed the Dictator, 
in the same tones. “ Or do you wish to quarrel with 
me 1 I give you your choice, Miss Vandeleur,” 

There was another pause, and the Dictator spoke 
again. 

“Take that man by the heels,” he said. “I must 
have him brought into the house. If I were a little 
younger, I could help myself against the world. But 
now that years and dangers are upon me and my 
hands are weakened, I must turn to you for aid.” 

“ It is a crime,” replied the girl. 

“ I am your father,” said Mr. Vandeleur. 

This appeal seemed to produce its effect. A scuffling 
noise followed upon the gravel, a chair was overset, 
and then Francis saw the father and daughter stagger 
across the walk and disappear under the verandah, 
bearing the inanimate body of Mr. Rolles embraced 
about the knees and shoulders. The young clergyman 
was limp and pallid, and his head rolled upon his 
shoulders at every step. 

Was he alive or dead ? Francis, in spite of the Dic- 
tator’s declaration, inclined to the latter view, A great 
crime had been committed ; a great calamity had fallen 
upon the inhabitants of the house with the green blinds. 
To his surprise, Francis found all horror for the deed 
swallowed up in sorrow for a girl and an old man 
whom he judged to be in the height of peril. A tide 
of generous feeling swept into his heart ; he, too, would 
help his father against man and mankind, against fate 
and justice ; and casting open the shutters he closed 
his eyes and threw himself with outstretched arms into 
the foliage of the chestnut. 

Branch after branch slipped from his grasp or broke 
under his weight; then he caught a stalwart bough 
under his armpit, and hung suspended for a second ; 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


153 


and then he let himself drop and fell heavily against 
the table, A cry of alarm from the house warned him 
that his entrance had not been effected unobserved. 
He recovered himself with a stagger,, and in three 
bounds crossed the intervening space and stood before 
the door in the verandah. 

In a small apartment, carpeted with matting and 
surrounded by glazed cabinets full of rare and costly 
curios, Mr. Vandeleur was stooping over the body of 
Mr. Rolles. He raised himself as Francis entered, and 
there was an instantaneous passage of hands. It was 
the business of a second; as fast as an eye can wink the 
thing was done; the young man had not the time to be 
sure, but it seemed to him as if the Dictator had taken 
something from the curate’s breast, looked at it for the 
least fraction of time as it lay in his hand, and then 
suddenly and swiftly passed it to his daughter. 

All this was ever while Francis had still one foot 
upon the threshold, and the other raised in air. The 
next instant he was on his knees to Mr. Vandeleur. 

“ Father ! ” he cried. “ Let me too help you. I will 
do what you wish and ask no questions; I will obey 
you with my life; treat me as a son, and you will find 
I have a son’s devotion.” - . 

A deplorable explosion of oaths was the Dictator’s 
first reply. 

“Son arid Father?” he cried. “Father and son? 

What d d unnatural comedy is all this ? How do 

you come in my garden ? What do you want ? And 
who, in God’s name, are you ? ” 

' Francis, with a stunned and shamefaced aspect, got 
upon his feet again, and stood in silence.* 

Then a light seemed to break upon Mr. Vandeleur, 
and he laughed aloud. 

“ I see,” cried he. “It is the Scrymgeour, Very 
well, Mr. Scrymgeour. Let me tell you in a few words 
how you stand. You have entered my private residence 
by force, or perhaps by fraud, but certainly with no 
encouragement from me; and you come at a moment 


^54 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


of some annoyance, a guest having fainted at my table, 
to besiege me with your protestations. You are no son 
of mine. You are my brother’s bastard by a fishwife, 
if you want to know. I regard you with an indifference 
closely bordering on aversion; and from what I now 
see of your conduct, I judge your mind to be exactly 
suitable to your exterior. I recommend you these 
mortifying reflections for your leisure; and, in the 
meantime, let me beseech you to rid us of your pres- 
ence. If I were not occupied,” added the Dictator, 
with a terrifying oath, “ I should give you the unholiest 
drubbing ere you went ! ” 

Francis listened in profound humiliation. He would 
have fled had it been possible; but as he had no means 
of Ijsaving the residence into which he had so un- 
fortunately penetrated, he could do no more than stand 
foolishly where he was. 

It was Miss Vandeleur who broke the silence. 

“Father,” she said, “you speak in anger. Mr. 
Scrymgeour may have been mistaken, j^ut he meant 
well and kindly.” 

“ Thank you for speaking,” returned the Dictator. 
“ You remind me of some other observations which I 
hold it a point of honor to make to Mr. Scrymgeour. 
My brother,” he continued, addressing the young man, 
“ has been foolish enough to give you an allowance; 
he was foolish enough and presumptuous enough to 
propose a match between you and this young lady. 
You were exhibited to her two nights ago; and I 
rejoice to tell you that she rejected the idea with dis- 
gust. Let me add that I have considerable influence 
with your father ; and it shall not be my fault if you 
are not beggared of your allowance and sent back to 
your scrivening ere the week be out.” 

The tones of the old man’s voice were, if possible, 
more wounding than his language ; Francis felt himself 
exposed to the most cruel, blighting, and unbearable 
contempt ; his head turned, and he covered his face 
with his hands, uttering at the same time a tearless sob 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


155 


of agony. -But Miss Vaiideleur once again interfered 
in his behalf. 

“ Mr. Scrymgeour,” she said, speaking in clear and 
even tones, “ you must not be concerned at my father’s 
harsh expressions. I felt no disgust for you ; on the 
contrary, I asked an opportunity to make your better 
acquaintance. As for what has passed to-night, 
believe me it has filled my mind with both pity and 
esteem.” 

Just then Mr. Rolles made a convulsive movement 
with his arm, which convinced Francis that he was only 
drugged, and was beginning to throw off the influence 
of the opiate. Mr. Vandeleur stooped over him and 
examined his face for an instant. 

“ Come, come ! ” cried he, raising his head. “ Let 
there be an end of this. And since you are so pleased 
with his conduct. Miss Vandeleur, take a candle and 
show the bastard out.” 

The young lady hastened to obey. 

“ Thank you,” said Francis, as soon as he was alone 
with her in the garden. “ I thank you from my soul. 
This has been the bitterest evening of my life, but it 
will have always one pleasant recollection.” 

“I spoke as I felt,” she replied, “and in justice to 
you. It made my heart sorry that you should be so 
unkindly used.” 

By this time they had reached the garden gate ; and 
Miss Vandeleur, having set the candle on the ground, 
was already unfastening the bolts. 

“ One word more,” said Francis. “ This is not for 
the last time — I shall see you again, shall I not ? ” 

“ Alas ! ” she answered. “ You have heard my 
father. What can I do but obey ? ” 

“ Tell me at least that it is not with your consent,” 
returned Francis ; “ tell me that you have no wish to 
see the last of me.” 

“ Indeed,” replied she, “ I have none. You seem to 
me both brave and honest.” 

“Then,” said Francis, “give me a keepsake.” 


NEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


156 

She paused for a moment, with her hand upon the 
"key for the various bars and bolts were all undone, 
and there was nothing left but to open the lock. 

“ If I agree,” she said, “ will you promise to do as I 
tell you from point to point ? ” 

“ Can you ask ? ” replied Francis. “ I would do so 
willingly on your bare word.” 

She turned the key and threw open the door. 

“ Be it so,” said she. “ You do not know what you 
ask, but be it so. Whatever you hear,” she continued, 
“ whatever happens, do not return to this house ; hurry 
fast until you reach the lighted and populous quarters 
of the city ; even there be upon your guard. You are 
in a greater danger than you fancy. Promise me you 
will not so much as look at any keepsake until you are 
in a place of safety.” 

“I promise,” replied Francis. 

She put something loosely wrapped in a handkerchief 
into the young man’s hand ; and at the same time, with 
more strength than he could have anticipated, she 
pushed him into the street. 

“ Now, run ! ” she cried. 

He heard the door close behind him, and the noise 
of the bolts being replaced. 

“ My faith,” said he, “ since I have promised ! ” 

And he took to his heels down the lane that leads into 
the Rue Ravignan. 

He was not fifty paces from the house with the green 
blinds when the most diabolical outcry suddenly arose 
out of the stillness of the night. Mechanically he stood 
still ; another passenger followed his example ; in the 
neighboring floors he saw people crowding to the 
windows ; a conflagration could not have produced 
more disturbance in this empty quarter. And yet it 
seemed to be all the work of a single man, roaring 
between grief and rage, like a lioness robbed of her 
whelps ; and Francis was surprised and alarmed to hear 
his own name shouted with English imprecations to 
the wind. 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND, 


157 


His first movement was to return to the house ; his 
second, as he remembered Miss Vandeleur’s advice, to 
continue his flight with greater expedition than before ; 
and he was in the act of turning to put his thought in 
action, when the Dictator, bareheaded, bawling aloud, 
his white hair blowing about his head, shot past him 
like a ball out of the cannon’s mouth, and went career- 
ing down the street. 

“That was a close shave,” thought Francis to him- 
self, “What he wants with me, and why he should be 
so disturbed, I cannot think ; but he is plainly not 
good company for the moment, and I cannot do better 
than follow Miss Vandeleur’s advice.” 

So saying, he turned to retrace his steps, thinking to 
double and descend by the Rue Lepic itself while his 
pursuer should continue to follow after him on the other 
line of street. The plan was ill-advised ; as a matter 
of fact, he should have taken his seat in the nearest 
cafe, and waited there until the first heat of the pursuit 
was over. But besides that Francis had no experience 
and little natural aptitude for the small war of private 
life, he was so unconscious of any evil on his part, that 
he saw nothing to fear beyond a disagreeable interview. 
And to disagreeable interviews he felt he had already 
served his apprenticeship that evening ; nor could he 
suppose that Miss Vandeleur had left anything unsaid. 
Indeed, the young man was sore both in body and 
mind — the one was all bruised, the other was full of 
smarting arrows ; and he owned to himself that Mr. 
Vandeleur was master of a very deadly tongue. 

The thought of his bruises reminded him that he had 
not only come without a hat, but that his clothes had 
considerably suffered in his descent through the chest- 
nut. At the first magazine he purchased a cheap wide- 
awake, and had the disorder of his toilet summarily 
repaired. The keepsake, still rolled in the handkerchief, 
he thrust in the meanwhile into his trousers pocket. 

Not many steps beyond the shop he was conscious 
of a sudden shock, a hand upon his throat, an infuri- 


158 


N£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ated face close to his own, and an open mouth bawl- 
ing curses in his ear. The Dictator, having found no 
trace of his quarry, was returning by the other way. 
Francis was a stalwart young fellow ; but he was no 
match for his adversary whether in strength or skill ; 
and after a few ineffectual struggles he resigned him- 
self entirely to his captor. 

“ What do you want with me ? ” 

“ We will talk of that at home,” returned the Dicta- 
tor, grimly. 

And he continued to march the young man up hill 
in the direction of the house with the green blinds. 

But Francis, although he no longer struggled, was 
only waiting an opportunity to make a bold push for 
freedom. With a sudden jerk he left the collar of his 
coat in the hands of Mr. Vandeleur, and once more 
made off at his best speed in the direction of the Boule- 
vards. 

The tables were now turned. If the Dictator was 
the stronger, Francis, in the top of his youth, was the 
more fleet of foot, and he had soon effected his escape 
among the crowds. Relieved for a moment, but with 
a growing sentiment of alarm and wonder in his mind, 
he walked briskly until he debouched upon the Place 
de rOpera, lit up like day with electric lamps. 

“ This, at least,” thought he, “ should satisfy Miss 
Vandeleur. ” 

And turning to his right along the Boulevards, he 
entered the Cafe Americain and ordered some beer. 
It was both late and early for the majority of the fre- 
quenters of the establishment. Only two or three 
persons, all men, were dotted here and there at sepa- 
rate tables in the hall ; and Francis was too much 
occupied by his own thoughts to observe their pres- 
ence. 

He drew the handkerchief from his pocket. The 
object wrapped in it proved to be a morocco case, 
clasped and ornamented in gilt, which opened by means 
of a spring, and disclosed to the horrified young man 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


»59 


a diamond of monstrous bigness and extraordinary 
brilliancy. The circumstance was so inexplicable, the 
value of the stone was plainly so enormous, that Fran- 
cis sat staring into the open casket without movement, 
without conscious thought, like a man stricken sud- 
denly with idiocy. 

A hand was laid upon his shoulder, lightly but 
firmly, and a quiet voice, which yet had in it the ring 
of command, uttered these words in his ear; — 

“ Close the casket, and compose your face.” 

Looking up, he beheld a man, still young, of an 
urbane and tranquil presence, and dressed with rich 
simplicity. This personage had risen from a neigh- 
boring table, and bringing his glass with him, had taken 
a seat beside Francis. 

“ Close the casket,” replied the stranger, “ and put 
it quietly back into your pocket, where I feel persuaded 
it should never have been. Try, if you please, to 
throw off your bewildered air, and act as though I were 
one of your acquaintances whom you had met by 
chance. So! Touch glasses with me. That is better. 
I fear, sir, you must be an amateur,” 

And the stranger pronounced these last words with 
a smile of peculiar meaning, leaned back in his seat 
and enjoyed a deep inhalation of tobacco. 

“For God’s sake,” said Francis, “ tell me who you are 
and what this means ? Why I should obey your most 
unusual suggestions I am sure I know not ; but the 
truth is, I have fallen this evening into so many per- 
plexing adventures, and all I meet conduct themselves 
so strangely, that I think I must either have gone mad 
or wandered into another planet. Your face inspires 
me with confidence ; you seem wise, good, and experi- 
enced ; tell me, for heaven’s sake, why you accost me 
in so odd a fashion ? ” 

“All in due time,” replied the stranger. “But I 
have the first hand, and you must begin by telling me 
how the Rajah’s Diamond is in your possession.” 

“ The Rajah’s Diamond ! ” 


ARABIAN NIGIItS. 


160 

“I would not speak so.loud, if I were you,” returned 
the other. “ But most certainly you have the Rajah’s 
Diamond in your pocket. I have seen.and handled it 
a score of times in Sir Thomas Vandeleur’s collection.” 

“Sir Thomas Vandeleur ! The General! My 
father ! ” 

“ Your father ? ” repeated the stranger. “ I was not 
aware the General had any family.” 

“ I am illegitimate, sir,” replied Francis with a flush. 

The other bowed with gravity. It was a respectful 
bow, as of a man silently apologizing to his equal ; and 
Francis felt relieved and comforted, he scarce knew 
why. The society of this person did him good ; he 
seemed to touch firm ground ; a strong feeling of 
respect grew up in his bosom, and mechanically he 
removed his wide-awake as though in the presence of 
a superior. 

“ I perceive,” said the stranger, “that your adven- 
tures have not all been peaceful. Your collar is torn, • 
your face is scratched, you have a cut upon your tem- 
ple ; you will, perhaps, pardon my curiosity when I 
ask you to explain how you came by these injuries, and 
how you happen to have stolen properly to an enor- 
mous value in your pocket.” 

“ I must differ from you ! ” returned Francis, hotly. 

“ I possess no stolen property. And if you refer to the * 
diamond, it was given to me not an hour ago by Miss 
Vandeleur in the Rue Lepic.” 

“ By Miss Vandeleur of the Rue Lepic!” repeated 
the other. “ You interest me more than you suppose. 
Pray continue.” 

“ Heavens ! ” cried Francis. 

His memory had made a sudden bound. He had 
seen Mr. Vandeleur take an article from the breast of 
his drugged visitor, and that article, he was now per- 
suaded, was a morocco case. 

“ You have a light ? ” inquired the stranger. 

“ Listen,” said Francis. “ I know not who you are, 
but I believe you to be worthy of confidence and 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


i6l 

helpful ; I fin^ myself in strange waters ; I must have 
counsel and support, and since you invite me I shall 
tell you all.” 

And he briefly recounted his experiences since the 
day when he was summoned from the bank by his 
lawyer. 

“Yours is indeed a remarkable history,” said the 
stranger, after the young man had made an end of his 
narrative ; “ and your position is full of dififlculty and 
peril. Many would counsel you to seek out your father, 
and give the diamond to him ; but I have other views. 
Waiter !” he cried. 

The waiter drew near. 

“ Will you ask the manager to speak with me a 
moment ? ” said he ; and Francis observed once more, 
both in his tone and manner, the evidence of a habit of 
command. 

The waiter withdrew, and returned in a moment 
with the manager, who bowed with obsequious 
respect. 

“What,” said he, “can I do to serve you?” 

“ Have the goodness,” replied the stranger, indicat- 
ing Francis, “ to tell this gentleman my name. 

“ You have the honor, sir,” said the functionary, 
addressing young Scrymgeour, “ to occupy the same 
'table with His Highness Prince Florizel of Bohemia.” 

P'rancis rose with precipitation, and made a grate- 
ful reverence to the Prince, who bade him resume 
his seat. 

“ I thank you,” said Florizel, once more addressing 
the functionary ; “ I am sorry to have deranged you 
for so small a matter.” 

And he dismissed him with a movement of his hand. 

“ And now,” added the Prince, turning to Francis, 
“ give me the diamond.” 

Without a word the casket was handed over. 

“You have done right,” said Florizel; “ your 
sentiments have properly inspired you, and you will 
live to be grateful for the misfortunes of to-night. A 


i 62 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


man, Mr. Scryingeour, may fall into a •thousand per- 
plexities, but if his heart be upright and his intelligence 
unclouded, he will issue from them all without dis- 
honor. Let your mind be at rest ; your affairs are in 
my hands ; and with the aid of heaven I am strong 
enough to bring them to a good end. Follow me, if 
you please, to my carriage.” 

So saying the Prince arose and, having left a piece of 
gold for the waiter, conducted the young man from 
the cafe and along the Boulevard to where an 
unpretentious brougham and a couple of servants out 
of livery awaited his arrival. 

“ This carriage,” said he, “ is at your disposal ; 
collect your baggage as rapidly as you can make it 
convenient, and my servants will conduct you to a 
villa in the neighborhood of Paris where you can wait 
in some degree of comfort until I have had time to 
arrange your situation. You will find there a pleasant 
garden, a library of good authors, a cook, a cellar, and 
some good cigars, which I recommend to your atten- 
tion. Jerome,” he added, turning to one of the ser- 
vants, “ you have heard what I say; I leave Mr. Scrym- 
geour in your charge ; you will, I know, be careful of 
my friend.” 

Francis uttered some broken phrases of gratitude. 

“ It will be time enough to thank me,” said the 
Prince, “ when you are acknowledged by your father 
and married to Miss Vandeleur.” 

And with that the Prince turned away and strolled 
leisurely in the direction of Montmartre. He hailed 
the first passing cab, gave an address, and a quarter of 
an hour afterwards, having discharged the driver some 
distance lower, he was knocking at Mr. Vandeleur's 
garden gate. 

It was opened with singular precautions by the Dic- 
tator in person. 

“ Who are you ? ” he demanded. 

“You must pardon me this late visit, Mr. Vande- 
leur,” replied the Prince. 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 163 

‘‘ Your Highness is always welcome,” returned Mr. 
Vandeleur, stepping back. 

The Prince profited by the open space, and without 
waiting for his host walked right into the house and 
opened the door of the salo7i. Two people were seated 
there ; one was Miss Vandeleur, who bore the marks 
of weeping about her eyes, and was still shaken from 
time to time by a sob ; in the other the Prince recog- 
nized the young man who had consulted him on literary 
matters about a month before, in a club smoking-room. 

“ Good evening, Miss Vandeleur,” said Florizel ; 
“ you look fatigued. Mr. Rolles, I believe ? I hope 
you have profited by the study of Gaboriau, Mr. 
Rolles.” 

But the young clergyman’s temper was too much 
embittered for speech ; and he contented himself with 
bowing stiffly, and continued to gnaw his lip. 

“ To what good wind,” said Mr. Vandeleur, follow- 
ing his guest, “ am I to attribute the honor of your 
Highness’s presence ? ” 

“ I am come on business,” returned the Prince ; “ on 
business with you ; as soon as that is settled I shall 
request Mr. Rolles to accompany me for a walk. Mr. 
Rolles,” he added, with severity, “let me remind you 
that I have not yet sat down.” 

The clergyman sprang to his feet with an apology ; 
whereupon the Prince took an arm-chair beside the 
table, handed his hat to Mr. Vandeleur, his cane to 
Mr. Rolles, and, leaving them standing and thus 
menially employed upon his service, spoke as follows : — 

“ I have come here, as I said, upon business ; but, 
had I come looking fbr pleasure, I could not have been 
more displeased with my reception nor more dissatis- 
fied with my company. You, sir,” addressing Mr. 
Rolles, “ you have treated your superior in station 
with discourtesy ; you, Vandeleur, receive me with a 
smile, but you know right well that your hands are not 
yet cleansed from misconduct. I do not desire to be 
interrupted, sir,*” he added, imperiously ; “ I am here 


164 


ATEfV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


to speak, and not to listen ; and I have to ask you to 
hear me with respect, and to obey punctiliously. At 
the earliest possible date your daughter shall be mar- 
ried at the Embassy to my friend, Francis Scrymgeour, 
your brother’s acknowledged son. You will oblige me 
by offering not less than ten thousand pounds dowry. 
For yourself, I will indicate to you in writing a mission 
of some importance in Siam which I destine to your 
care. And now, sir, you will answer me in two words 
whether or not you agree to these conditions.” 

“Your Highness will pardon me,” said Mr. Vande- 
leur, “ and permit me, with all respect, to submit to 
him two queries ? ” 

“ The permission is granted,” replied the Prince. 

“Your Highness,” resumed the Dictator, “has 
called Mr. Scrymgeour his friend. Believe me, had I 
known that he was thus honored, I should have treated 
him with proportional respect.” 

“ You interrogate adroitly,” said the Prince; “but 
it will not serve your turn. You have my commands ; 
if I had never seen that gentleman before to-night, it 
would not render them less absolute.” 

“Your Highness interprets my meaning with his 
usual subtlety,” returned Vandeleur. “ Once more : 
I have, unfortunately, put the police upon the track of 
Mr. Scrymgeour on a charge of theft ; am I to with- 
draw or to uphold the accusation ? ” 

“ You will please yourself,” replied Florizel. “The 
question is one between your conscience and the laws 
of this land. Give me my hat ; and you, Mr. Rolles, 
give me my cane and follow me. Miss Vandeleur, I 
wish you good evening. I judge,” he added to Vande- 
leur, “ that your silence means unqualified assent.” 

‘‘ If I can do no better,” replied the old man, “ I 
shall submit ; but I warn you openly it shall not be 
without a struggle.” 

“ You are old,” said the Prince ; “ but years are dis- 
graceful to the wicked. Your age is rpore unwise than 
the youth of others. Do not provoke me, or you may 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


1(^5 

find me harder than you dream. This is the first time 
that I have fallen across your path in anger take care 
that it be the last.” 

With these words, motioning the clergyman to follow, 
Florizei .left the apartment and directed his steps 
towards the garden-gate ; and the Dictator, following 
with a candle, gave them light, and once more undid 
the elaborate fastenings with which he sought to pro- 
tect himself from intrusion. 

“Your daughter is no longer present,” said the 
Prince, turning on the threshold. “ Let me tell you 
that I understand your threats ; and you have only to 
lift your hand to bring upon yourself sudden and irre- 
mediable ruin.” 

The Dictator made no reply ; but as the Prince 
turned his back upon him in the lamplight he made a 
gesture full of menace and insane fury ; and the next 
moment, slipping round a corner, he was running at 
full speed for the nearest cab-stand. 

{Here, says my Arabian, the thread of events is finally 
diverted from The House with the Green Blinds. 
One i}iore adventure, he adds, and we have done with 
The Rajah’s Diamond. That last link in the chain is 
known among the inhabitants of Bagdad by the name of 
The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detec- 
tive.) 


ADVENTURE OF PRINCE FLORIZEL AND 
THE DETECTIVE. 


Prince Florizel walked with Mr. Rolles to the door 
of a small hotel where the latter resided. They spoke 
much together, and the clergyman was more than once 
affected to tears by the mingled severity and tender- 
ness of Florizel’s reproaches. 

“ I have made ruin of my life,” he said at last. 
“ Help me; tell me what I am to do; I have, alas ! 
neither the virtues of a priest nor the dexterity of a 
rogue.” 

“ Now that you are humbled,” said the Prince, “ I 
command no longer; the repentant have to do with 
God and not with princes. But if you will let me 
advise you, go to Australia as a colonist, seek menial 
labor in the open air, and try to forget that you have 
ever been a clergyman, or that you ever set eyes on 
that accursed stone.” 

“ Accurst indeed !” replied Mr. Rolles. “ Where is 
it now ? What further hurt is it not working for man- 
kind ?” 

“ It will do no more evil,” returned the Prince. “ It 
is here in my pocket. And this,” he added, kindly, 
“ will show that I place some faith in your penitence, 
young as it is.” 

” Suffer rne to touch your hand,” pleaded Mr. Rolles. 

“ No,” replied Prince Florizel, “not yet.” 

The tone in which he uttered these last words was 
eloquent in the ears of the young clergyman ; and for 
some minutes after the Prince had turned away he 
stood on the threshold following with his eyes the 
retreating figure and invoking the blessing of heaven 
upon a man so excellent in counsel. 

For several hours tlK; Prince walked alone in unfre- 

i66 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOXD. 


167 


quented streets. His mind was full of concern; what 
to do with the diamond, whether to return it to its 
owner, whom he judged unworthy of this rare posses- 
sion, or to take some sweeping and courageous meas- 
ure and put it out of the reach of all mankind at once 
and for ever was a problem too grave to be decided in 
a moment. The manner in which it had come into his 
hands appeared manifestly providential; and as he 
took out the jewel and looked at it under the street 
lamps, its size and surprising brilliancy inclined him 
more and more to think of it as an unmixed and dan- 
gerous evil for the world. 

“God help me!” bethought; “if I look at it much 
oftener I shall begin to grow covetous myself.” 

At last, though still uncertain in his mind, he turned 
his steps towards the small but elegant mansion on the 
riverside, which had belonged for centuries to his royal 
family. The arms of Bohemia are deeply graved over 
the door and upon the tall chimneys; passengers have 
a look into a green court set with the most costly 
flowers, and a stork, the only one in Paris, perches on 
the gable all day long and keeps a crowd before the 
house. Grave servants are seen passing to and fro 
within; and from time to time the great gate is thrown 
open and a carriage rolls below the arch. For many 
reasons this residence was especially dear to the heart 
of Prince Florizel; he never drew near to it without 
enjoying that sentiment of home-coming so rare in the 
lives of the great; and on the present evening he 
beheld its tall roof and mildly illuminated windows 
with unfeigned relief and satisfaction. 

As he was approaching the postern door by which 
he always entered when alone, a man stepped forth 
from the shadow and presented himself with an obei- 
sance in the Prince’s path. 

“ I have the honor of atddressing Prince Florizel of 
Bohemia ? ” said he. 

“ Such is my title,” replied the Prince. “ What do 
you want with me ? 


i68 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ I am,” said the man, “ a detective, and I have to 
present your Highness with this billet from the Prefect 
of Police.” 

The Prince took the letter and glanced it through 
by the light of the street lamp. It was highly apolo- 
getic, but requested him to follow the bearer to the 
Prefecture without delay. 

“ In short,” said Florizel, “ I am arrested.” 

“ Your Highness,” replied the officer, “ nothing, I 
am certain, could be further from the intention of the 
Prefect. You will observe that he has not granted a 
warrant. It is mere formality, or call it if you pre- 
fer, an obligation that your Highness lays on the 
authorities.” 

“ At the same time,” asked the Prince, “ if I were 
to refuse to follow you ? ” 

“ I will not conceal from your Highness that a con- 
siderable discretion has been granted me,” replied the 
detective with a bow. 

” Upon my word,” cried Florizel, “your effrontery 
confounds me ! Yourself, as an agent, I must pardon ; 
but your superiors shall dearly smart for their miscon- 
duct. What, have you any idea, is the cause of this- 
impolitic and unconstitutional act ? You will observe 
that I have as yet neither refused nor consented and 
much may depend on your prompt and ingenuous 
answer. Let me remind you, officer, that this is an 
affair of some gravity.” 

“ Your Highness,” said the detective humbly, “ Gen- 
eral Vandeleur and his brother have had the incredi- 
ble presumption to accuse you of theft. The famous 
diamond, they declare, is in your hands, A word 
from you in denial will most amply satisfy the Prefect ; 
nay, I go farther : if your Highness would so far honor 
a subaltern as to declare his ignorance of the matter 
even to myself, I should ask permission to retire upon 
the spot.” 

Florizel, up to the last moment, had regarded his 
adventure in the light of a trifle, only serious upon 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


169 


international considerations. At the name of Vande- 
leur the horrible truth broke upon him in a moment; 
he was not only arrested, but he was guilty. This was 
not only an annoying incident — it was a peril to his 
honor. What was he to say ? What was he to do ? 
The Rajah’s Diamond was indeed an accursed stone; 
and it seemed as if he were to be the last victim to its 
influence. 

One thing was certain. He could not give the 
required assurance to the detective. He must gain. time. 

His hesitation had not lasted a second. 

“ Be it so,” said he, “ let us walk together to the 
Prefecture.” 

The man once more bowed, and proceeded to fol- 
low Florizel at a respectful distance in the rear. 

“ Approach,” said the Prince. “ I am in a humor 
to talk, and, if I mistake not, now I look at you again, 
this is not the first time that we have met.” 

“ I count it an honor,” replied the officer, that 
your Highness should recollect my face. It is eight 
years since I had the pleasure of an interview.” 

“To remember faces,” returned Florizel, “ is as 
much a part of my profession as it is of yours. Indeed, 
rightly looked upon, a Prince and a detective serve in 
the same corps. We are both combatants against 
crime; only mine is the more lucrative and yours the 
more dangerous rank, and there is a sense in which 
both may be made equally honorable to a good man. 
I had rather, strange as you may think it, be a detec- 
tive of character and parts than a weak and ignoble 
sovereign.” 

The officer was overwhelmed. 

“ Your Highness returns good for evil,” said he. 
“To an act of presumption he replies by the most 
amiable condescension.” 

“ How do you know,” replied Florizel, “ that I am 
not seeking to corrupt you ?” 

“ Heaven preserve me from the temptation ! ” cried 
the detective. 


170 


ATEIF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ I applaud your answer,” returned the Prince. “ It 
is that of a wise and honest man. The world is a 
great place, and stocked with wealth and beauty, and 
there is no limit to the rewards that may be offered. 
Such an one who would refuse a million of money may 
sell his honor for an empire or the love of a woman; 
and I myself, who speak to you, have seen occasions 
so tempting, provocations so irresistible to the strength 
of human virtue, that I have been glad to tread in 
your steps and recommend myself to the grace of God. 
It is thus, thanks to that modest and becoming habit 
alone,” he added, “that you and I can walk this town 
together with untarnished hearts.” 

“ I had always heard that you were brave,” replied 
the officer, “ but I was not aware that •you were wise 
and pious. You speak the truth, and you speak it 
with an accent that moves me to the heart. This 
world is indeed a place of trial.” • 

“ We are now,” said Florizel, “ in the middle of the 
bridge. Lean your elbows on the parapet and look 
over. As the water rushing below, so the passions and 
complications of life carry away the honesty of weak 
men. Let me tell you a story.” 

“ I receive your Highness’s commands,” replied the 
man. 

And, imitating the Prince, he leaned against the 
parapet, and disposed himself to listen. The city was 
already sunk in slumber; had it not been for the 
infinity of lights and the outline of buildings on the 
starry sky, they might have been alone beside some 
country river. 

“ An officer,” began Prince Florizel, “ a man of 
courage and conduct, who had already risen by merit 
to an eminent rank, and won not only admiration but 
respect, visited, in an unfortunate hour for his peace 
of mind, the collections of an Indian Prince. Here 
he beheld a diamond so extraordinary for size and 
beauty that from that instant he had only one desire 
in life: honor, reputation, friendship, the love of coun- 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


171 


try, he was ready to sacrifice all for this lump of 
sparkling crystal. For three years he served this semi- 
barbarian potentate as Jacob served Laban; he falsified 
frontiers, he connived at murders, he unjustly con- 
demned and executed a brother-officer who had the 
misfortune to displease the Rajah by some honest 
freedoms; lastly, at a time of great danger to his native 
land, he betrayed a body of his fellow-soldiers, and 
suffered them to be defeated and massacred by thou- 
sands. In the end, he had amassed a magnificent 
fortune, and brought home with him the coveted 
diamond. 

“Years passed,” continued the Prince, “ and at 
length the diamond is accidentally lost. It falls into 
the hands of a simple and laborious youth, a student, 
a minister of God, just entering on a career of use- 
fulness and even distinction. Upon him also the 
spell is cast; he deserts ever^dhing, his holy calling, 
his studies, and flees with the gem into a foreign coun- 
try. The officer has a brother, an astute, daring, 
unscrupulous man, who learns die clergyman’s secret. 
What does he do ? Tell his brother, inform the police ? 
No; upon this man also the Satanic charm has fallen; 
he must have the stone for himself. At the risk of 
murder, he drugs the young priest and seizes the prey. 
And now, by an accident which is not important to 
my moral, the jewel passes out of his custody into 
that of another, who, terrified at what he sees, gives it 
into the keeping of a man in high station and above 
reproach. 

“The officer’s name is Thomas Vandeleur,” con- 
tinued Florizel. “ The stone is called the Rajah’s 
Diamond. And ” — suddenly opening his hand — “ you 
behold it here before your eyes.” 

The officer started back with a cry. 

“ We have spoken of corruption,” said the Prince. 
“To me this nugget of bright crystal is as loathsome 
as though it were crawling with the worms of death; it 
is as shocking as though it were compacted out of inno- 


172 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


cent blood. I see it here in my hand, and I know it 
is shining with hell-fire. I have told you but a hun- 
dredth part of its story; what passed in former ages, 
to what crimes and treacheries it incited men of yore, 
the imagination trembles to conceive; for years and 
years it has faithfully served the powers of hell; 
enough, I say, of blood, enough of disgrace, enough of 
broken lives and friendships; 'all things come to an end, 
the evil like the good; pestilence as well as beautiful 
music; and as for this diamond, God forgive me if I 
do wrong, but its empire ends to-night.” 

The Prince made a sudden movement with his hand, 
and the jewel, describing an arc of light, dived with a 
splash into the flowing river. 

“ Amen,” said Florizel, with gravity. “ I have slain 
a cockatrice ! ” 

“ God pardon me ! ” cried the detective. “ What 
have you done ? I am a ruined man.” 

“ I think,” returned the Prince, with a smile, “ that 
manywell-to-do people in this city might envy you 
your ruin.” 

‘ Alas ! your Highness ! ” said the officer, “ and you 
corrupt me after all ? ” 

“ It seems there was no help for it,” replied Florizel. 
“And now let us go forward to the Prefecture.” 

Not long after, the marriage of Francis Scrymgeour 
and Miss Vandeleur was celebrated in great privacy; 
and the Prince acted on that occasion as groom’s man. 
The two Vandeleurs surprised some rumor of what 
had happen to the diamond; and their vast diving 
operations on the River Seine are the wonder and 
amusement of the idle. It is true that through some 
miscalculation they have chosen the wrong branch of 
the river. As for the Prince, that sublime person, 
having now served his turn, may go, along with the 
Arabian Author, topsy-turvy into space. But if the 
reader insists on more specific information, I am happy 
to say that a recent revolution hurled him from the 


THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND. 


173 


throne of Bohemia, in consequence of his continued 
absence and edifying neglect of public business; and 
that his Highness now keeps a cigar store in Rupert 
Street, much frequented by other foreign refugees. 

I go there from time to time to smoke and have a 
chat, and find him as great a creature as in the days of 
his prosperity; he has an Olympian air behind the 
counter; and although a sedentary life is beginning to 
tell upon his waistcoat, he is probably, take him for all 
in all, the handsomest tobacconist in London, 




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THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS. 

INSCRIBED TO 

D. A. S. 


IN MEMORY OF DA KJ NEAR FI DR A, 



1 


THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS. 


CHAPTER I. 

TELLS HOW I CAMPED IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD, AND BE- 
HELD A LIGHT IN THE PAVILION. 

I WAS a great solitary when I was young. I made 
it my pride to keep aloof and suffice for my 
own entertainment ; and I may say that I had neither 
friends nor acquaintances until I met that friend who 
became my wife and the mother of my children. With 
one man only was I on private terms ; this was R. 
Northmour, Esquire, of Graden Easter, in Scotland. 
We had met at college ; and though there was not 
much liking between us, nor even much intimacy, we 
were so nearly of a humor that we could associate with 
ease to both. Misanthropes, we believed ourselves to 
tie : qip I have thought since that we were only sulky 
^jlows. It was scarcely a companionship, but a 
coexistence in unsociability. Northmour’s exceptional 
violence of temper made it no easy affair for him to 
keep the peace with anyone but me ; and as he res- 
pected My silent ways, and let me come and go as I 
pleasea, I could tolerate his presence without concern. 
I think we called each other friends. 

When Northmour took his degree and I decided to 
leave the university without one, he invited me on a 
long visit to Graden Easter ; and it was thus that I 
first became acquainted with the scene of my adven- 
tures. The mansion house of Graden stood in a bleak 
stretch of country some three miles from the shore of 
the German Ocean. It was as large as a barrack ; and 
as it had been built of a soft stone, liable to consume 
177 


178 


J\/EPF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


in the eager air of the seaside, it was damp and 
draughty within and half' ruinous without. It was 
impossible for two young men to lodge with comfort in 
such a dwelling. But there stood in the northern part 
of the estate, in a wilderness of links and blowing sand- 
hills, and between a plantation and the sea, a small 
Pavilion or Belvedere, of modern design, which was 
exactly suited to our wants ; and in this hermitage, 
speaking little, reading much, and rarely associating 
except at meals, Northmour and I spent four tempes- 
tuous winter months. I might have stayed longer ; 
but one March night there sprang up between us a dis- 
pute, which rendered my departure necessary. North- 
mour spoke hotly, I remember, and I suppose I must 
have made some tart rejoinder. He leaped from his 
• chair and grappled me ; I had to fight, without exag- 
geration, for my life ; and it was only with a great 
effort that I mastered him, for he was near as strong 
in body as myself, and seemed filled with the devil. 
The next morning, we met on our usual terms ; but I 
judged it more delicate to withdraw ; nor did he 
attempt to dissuade me. 

It was nine years before I revisited the neighbor- 
hood. I traveled at that time with a tilt cart, a tent, 
and a cooking-stove, tramping all day beside the wag- 
on, and at night, whenever it was possible, gipsying in 
a cove of the hills, or by the side of a wood. I believe 
I visited in this manner most of the wild and desolate 
regions both in England and Scotland ; and, as I had 
neither friends nor relations, I was troubled with no 
corresponjdence, and had nothing in the nature of 
head-quarters, unless it was the office of my solicitors, 
from whom I drew my income twice a year. It was a 
life in which I delighted ; and I fully thought to have 
grown old upon the march, and at last died in a ditch. 

It was my whole business to find desolate corners, 
where I could camp without the fear of interruption ; 
and hence being in another part of the same shire, I 
bethought me suddenly of the Pavilion on the Links. 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


179 


No thoroughfare passed within three miles of it. The 
nearest town, and that was but a fisher village, was at 
a distance of six or seven. For ten miles of length, 
and from a depth varying from three miles to half a 
mile, this belt of barren country lay along the sea. 
The beach, which was the natural approach, was Tull 
of quicksands. Indeed I may say there is hardly a 
better place of concealment in the United Kingdom. 
I determined to pass a week in the Sea-Wood of Gra- 
den-Easter, and making a long stage, reached it about 
sundown on a wild September day. 

The country, I have said, was mixed sand-hill and 
links ; links being a Scottish name for sand which has 
ceased drifting and become more or less solidly covered 
with turf. The pavilion stood on an even space ; a 
little behind it, the wood began in a hedge of elders 
huddled together by the wind ; in front, a few tumbled 
sand-hills stood between it and the sea. An outcrop- 
ping of rock had formed a bastion for the sand, so that 
there was here a promontory in the coast-line between 
two shallow bays ; and just beyond the tides, the rock 
again cropped out and formed an islet of small dimen- 
sions but strikingly designed. The quicksands were 
of great extent at low water, and had an infamous 
reputation in the country. Close in shore, between the 
islet and the promontory, it was said that they would 
swallow a man in four minutes and a half ; but there 
may have been little ground for this precision. The 
district was alive with rabbits, and haunted by gulls 
which made a continual piping about the pavilion. 
On summer days the outlook was bright and even 
gladsome ; but at sundown in September, with a high 
wind, and a heavy surf rolling in close along the links, 
the place told of nothing but dead mariners and sea 
disasters. A ship beating to windward on the horizon, 
and a huge .truncheon of wreck half buried in the 
sands at my feet, completed the innuendo of the scene. 

The pavilion — it had been built by the last proprie- 
tor, Northmour’s uncle, a silly and prodigal virtuoso-^ 


i8o 


NEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


presented little signs of age. It was two stories in 
height, Italian in design, surrounded by a patch of 
garden in which nothing had prospered but a few coarse 
flowers; and looked, with its shuttered windows, not 
like a house that had been deserted, but like one that 
had, never been tenanted by man. Northmour was 
plainly from home; whether, as usual, sulking in the 
cabin of his yacht, or in one of his fitful and extrava- 
gant appearances in the world of society, I had, of 
course, no means of guessing. The place had an air 
of solitude that daunted even a solitary like myself ; 
the wind cried in the chimneys with a strange and 
wailing note ; and it was with a sense of escape, as if 
I were going indoors, that I turned away and driving 
my cart before me entered the skirts of the wood. 

The Sea-Wood of Graden had been planted to shel- 
ter the cultivated fields behind, and check the encroach- 
ments of the blowing sand. As you advanced into it 
from coastward, elders were succeeded by other hardy 
shrubs ; but the timber was all stunted and bushy ; it 
led a life of conflict ; the trees were accustomed to 
swing there all night long in fierce winter tempests; and 
even in early spring, the leaves were already flying, and 
autumn was beginning, in this exposed plantation. 
Inland the ground rose into a little hill, which, along 
with the islet, served as a sailing mark for seamen. 
When the hill was open of the islet to the north, ves- 
sels must bear well to the eastward to clear Graden 
Ness and the Graden Bullers. In the lower ground, a 
streamlet ran among the trees, and, bein^ dammed 
with dead leaves and clay of its own carrying, spread 
out every here and there, and lay in stagnant pools. 
One or two ruined cottages were dotted about the 
wood ; and, according to Northmour, these were eccle- 
siastical foundations, and in their time had sheltered 
pious hermits. 

I found a den, or small hollow, where there was a ‘ 
spring of pure water; and there, clearing away the 
brambles, I pitched the tent, and made a fire to cook 


THE PA VI LION ON THE LINKS. l8i 

my supper. My horse I picketed farther in the wood 
where there was a patch of sward. The banks of the 
den not only concealed the light of my fire, but 
sheltered me from the wind, which was cold as well as 
high. 

The life I was leading made me both hardy and 
frugal. I never drank but water, and rarely ate any- 
thing more costly than oatmeal ; and I required so 
little sleep, that, although I rose with the peep of day, 
I would ohen lie long awake in the dark or starry 
watches of the night. Thus in Graden Sea-Wood, 
although I fell thankfully asleep by eight in the even- 
ing I was awake again before eleven with a full posses- 
sion of my faculties, and no sense of drowsiness or 
fatigue. I rose and sat by the fire, watching the trees 
and clouds tumultuously tossing and fleeing overhead, 
and hearkening to the wind and rollers along the 
shore; till at length, growing weary of inaction, I quitted 
the den, and strolled towards the borders of the wood. 
A . young moon, buried in mist, gave a faint illumination 
to my steps; and the light grew brighter as I walked 
forth into the links. At the same moment, the wind, 
smelling salt of the open ocean and carrying particles 
of sand, struck me with its full force, so that I had to 
bow my head. 

When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware 
of a light in the pavilion. It was not stationary; but 
passed from one window to another, as though some 
one were reviewing the different apartments with a 
lamp or candle. I watched it for some seconds in 
great surprise. When I had arrived in the afternoon 
the house had been plainly deserted ; now it was as 
plainly occupied. It was my first idea that a gang of 
thieves might have broken in and be now ransacking 
Northmour’s cupboards, which were many and not ill 
supplied. But what should bring thieves to Graden 
Easter ? And, again, all the shutters had been thrown 
open, and it would have been more in the character of 
such gentry to close them. I dismissed the notion, 


i 82 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


and fell back upon another. Northmour himself must 
have arrived, and was now airing and inspecting the 
pavilion. 

I have said that there was no real atfection between 
this man and me; but, had I loved him like a brother, 
I was then so much in love with solitude that I should 
none the less have shunned his company. As it was, 
I turned and ran for it; and it was with genuine satis- 
faction that I found myself safely back beside the fire. 
I had escaped an acquaintance; I should have one 
more night in comfort. In the morning, I might either 
slip away before Northmour was abroad, or pay him as 
short a visit as I chose. 

But when morning came, I thought the situation so 
diverting that I forgot my shyness. Northmour was 
at my mercy; -I arranged a good practical jest, though 
I knew well that my neighbor was not the man to jest 
with in security; and, chuckling beforehand over its 
success, took my place among the elders at the edge of 
the wood, whence I could command the door of the 
pavilion. The shutters were all once more closed, 
which I remember thinking odd; and the house, with 
its white walls and green Venetians, looked spruce and 
habitable in the morning light. Hour after hour 
passed, and still no sign of Northmour. I knew him 
for a sluggard in the morning; but, as it drew on 
towards noon, I lost my patience. To say the truth, 
I had promised myself to break my fast in the pavil- 
ion, and hunger began to prick me sharply. It was a 
pity to let the opportunity go by without sonre cause 
for mirth; but the grosser appetite prevailed, and I 
relinquished my jest with regret, and sallied from the 
wood. 

The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew 
near, with disquietude. It seemed unchanged since 
last evening; and I had expected it, I scarce knew 
why, to wear some external signs of habitation. But 
no: the windows were all closely shuttered, the chim- 
neys breathed no smoke, and the front door itself was 


THE PA VI LI ON ON THE LINKS. 183 

closely padlocked. Northmour, therefore, had entered 
by the back; this was the natural, and, indeed, the 
necessary conclusion; and you may judge of my sur- 
prise when, on turning the house, I found the back 
door similarly secured. 

My mind at once reverted to the original theory of 
thieves; and I blamed myself sharply for my last 
night’s inaction. I examined all the windows on the 
lower story, but none of them had been tampered with; 
I tried the padlocks, but they were both secure. It 
thus became a problem how the thieves, if thieves they 
were, had managed to enter the house. They must 
have got, I reasoned, upon the roof of the outhouse 
where Northmour used to keep his photographic bat- 
tery; and from thence, either by the window of the 
study or that of my old bedroom, completed their bur- 
glarious entry. 

I followed what I supposed was their example; and, 
getting on the roof, tried the shutters of each room. 
Both were secure; but I was not to be beaten; and, 
with a little force, one of them flew open, grazing, as it 
did so, the back of my hand. I remember, I put the 
wound to my mouth, and stood for perhaps half a min- 
ute licking it like a dog, and mechanically gazing 
behind me over the waste links and the sea; and, in 
that space of time, my eye made note of a large 
schooner yacht some miles to the north-east. Then I 
threw up the window and climbed in. 

I went over the house, and nothing can express my 
mystification. There was no sign of disorder, but, on 
the contrary, the rooms were unusually clean and pleas- 
ant. I found fires laid, ready for lighting; three bed 
rooms prepared with a luxury quite foreign to North- 
mour’s habits, and with water in the ewers and the beds 
turned down; a table set for three in the dining-room; 
and an ample supply of cold meats, game and vegeta- 
bles on the pantry shelves. There were guests 
expected, that was plain; but why guests, when North- 
mour hated society ? And, above all, why was the 


184 


JV£W ARABIAN’ NIGHTS. 


house thus stealthily prepared at dead of night ? and 
why were the shutters closed and the doors padlocked ? 

I effaced all traces of my visit, and came forth from 
the window feeling sobered and concerned. 

The schooner yacht was still in the same place; and 
it flashed for a moment through my mind that this 
might be the Red Earl bringing the owner of the 
pavilion and his guests. But the vessel’s head was set 
the other way. 


CHAPTER II. 

TELLS OF THE NOCTURNAL LANDING FROM THE YACHT. 

I returned to the den to cook myself a meal, of 
which I stood in great need, as well as to care for my 
horse, whom I had somewhat neglected in the morning. 
From time to time 1 went down to the edge of the 
wood ; but there was no change in the pavilion, and 
not a human creature was seen all day upon the links. 
The schooner in the offing was the one touch of life 
within my range of vision. She, apparently with no 
set object, stood off and on or lay to, hour after hour ; 
but as the evening deepened, she drew steadily nearer. 
I became more convinced that she carried Northmour 
and his friends, and that they would probably come 
ashore after dark ; not only because that was of a piece 
with the secresy of the preparations, but because the 
tide would not have flowed sufficiently before eleven to 
cover Graden Floe and the other sea quags that fortified 
the shore against invaders. 

All day the wind had been going down, and the sea 
along with it ; but there was a return towards sunset of 
the heavy weather of the day before. The night set in 
pitch dark. The wind came off the sea in squalls, like 
the firing of a battery of cannon ; now and then there 
was a flaw of rain, and the surf rolled heavier with the 
rising tide. I was down at my observatory among the 
elders, when a light was run up to the masthead of the 
schooner, and showed she was closer in than when 
I had last seen her by the dying daylight. I concluded 
that this must be a signal to Northmour’s associates on 
shore; and, stepping forth into the links, looked around 
me for something in response. 

A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, 
and formed the most direct communication between 

185 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


i86 

the pavilion and the mansion house ; and, as I cast my 
eyes to that side, I saw a spark of light, not a quarter 
of a mile away, and rapidly approaching. From its 
uneven course it appeared to be the light of a lantern 
carried by a person who followed the windings of the 
path, and was often staggered and taken aback by the 
more violent squalls, I concealed myself once more 
among the elders, and waited eagerly for the new 
comer’s advance. It proved to be a woman ; and, as 
she passed within half a rod of my ambush, I was able 
to recognize the features. The deaf and silent old 
dame, who had nursed Northmour in his childhood, was 
his associate in this underhand affair. 

I followed her at a little'distance; taking advantage 
of the innumerable heights and hollows, concealed by 
the darkness, and favored not only by the nurse’s deaf- 
ness, but the uproar of the wind and surf. She entered 
the pavilion, and, going at once to the upper story, 
opened and set a light in one of fhe windows that looked 
towards the sea. Immediately afterwards the light at 
the schooner’s masthead was run down and extin- 
guished. Its purpose had been attained, and those on 
board were sute that they were expected. The old 
woman resumed her preparations ; although the other 
shutters remained closed, I could see a glimmer going 
to and fro about the house ; and a gush of sparks from 
one chimney after another soon told me that the fires 
were being kindled. 

Northmour and his guests, I was now persuaded, 
would come ashore as soon as there was water on the 
floe. It was a wild night for boat service; and I felt some 
alarm mingle with my curiosity as I reflected on the 
danger of the landing. My old acquaintance, it was 
true, was the most eccentric of men ; but the present 
eccentricity was both disquieting and lugubrious to 
consider. A variety of feelings thus led me towards 
the beach, where I lay flat on my face in a hollow with- 
in six feet of the track that led to the pavilion. 
Thence, I should have the satisfaction of recognizing 


THE PA VI LI ON ON THE LINKS. 187 

the arrivals, and, if they should prove to be acquaint- 
ances, greeting them as soon as they had landed. 

Some time before eleven, while the tide was still 
dangerously low, a boat’s lantern appeared close in 
shore ; and, my attention being thus awakened, I could 
perceive another still far to seaward, violently tossed, 
and sometimes hidden by the billows. The weather, 
which was getting dirtier as the night went on, and the 
perilous situation of the yacht upon a lee-shore, had 
probably driven them to attempt a landing at the ear- 
liest possible moment. 

A little afterwards, four yachtsmen carrying a very 
heavy chest, and guided by a fifth with a lantern, passed 
close in front of me as I lay, and were admitted to the 
pavilion by the nurse. They returned to the beach, and 
passed me a third time with another chest, larger but 
apparently not so heavy as the first. A third time they 
made the transit ; and on this occasion one of the 
yachtsmen carried a leather portmanteau, and the others 
a lady’s trunk and carriage bag. My curiosity was 
sharply excited. If a woman were among the guests 
of Northmour, it would show a change in his habits and 
an apostasy from his pet theories of life, well calculated 
to fill me with surprise. When he and I dwelt there 
together, the pavilion had been a temple of misogyny. 
And now, one of the detested sex was to be installed 
under its roof. I remembered one or two particulars, 
a few notes of daintiness and almost of coquetry which 
had struck me the day before as I surveyed the prepa- 
rations in the house ; their purpose was now clear, and 
I thought myself dull not to have perceived it from the 
first. 

While I was thus reflecting a second lantern drew 
near me from the beach. It was carried by a yachts- 
man whom I had not yet seen, and who was conduct- 
ing two other persons to the pavilion. These two 
persons were unquestionably the guests for whom 
the house was made ready; and, straining eye and 
ear, I set myself to watch them as they passed. One 


i88 


J^£PV AHABIAN NIGHTS. 


was an unusually tall man, in a traveling hat slouched 
over his eyes, and a highland cape closely buttoned 
and turned up so as to conceal his face. You could 
make out no more of him than that he was, as I have 
said, unusually tall, and walked feebly with a heavy 
stoop. By his side, and either clinging to him or giv- 
ing him support — I could not make out which — was a 
young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She was 
extremely pale; but in the light of the lantern her face 
was so marred by strong and changing shadows, that 
she might equally well have been as ugly as sin or as 
beautiful as I afterwards found her to be. 

When they were just abreast of me, the girl made 
some remark which was drowned by the noise of the 
wind. 

“ Hush! ” said her companion; and there was some- 
thing in the tone with which the word was uttered 
that thrilled and rather shook my spirits. It seemed 
to breathe from a bosom laboring under the deadliest 
terror; I have never heard another syllable so express- 
ive; and I still hear it again when I am feverish at 
night, and my mind runs upon old times. The man 
turned towards the girl as he spoke; I had a glimpse 
of much red beard and a nose which seemed to have 
been broken in youth; and his light eyes seemed 
shining in his face with some stro^lg and unpleasant 
emotion. 

But these two passed on and were admitted in their 
turn to the pavilion. 

One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to 
the beach. The wind brought me the sound of a 
rough voice crying, “ Shove off 1 ” Then, after a 
pause, another lantern drew near. It w’as Northmour 
alone. 

My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often 
agreed to wonder how a person could be, at the same 
time, so handsome and so repulsive as Northmour. 
He had the appearance of a finished gencleman; his 
face bore every mark of intelligence and courage, but 


THE PA VILIOH ON THE LINKS. 189 


you had only to look at him, even in his most amiable 
moment, to see that he had the temper of a slave .cap- 
tain. I never knew a character that was both explos- 
ive and revengeful to the same degree; he combined 
the vivacity of the south with the sustained and deadly 
hatreds of the north; and both traits were plainly 
written on his face, which was a sort of danger signal. 
In person he was tall, strong, and active; his hair and 
complexion very dark; his features handsomely 
designed, but spoiled by a menacing expression. 

At that moment he was somewhat paler than by 
nature; he wore a heavy frown; and his lips worked, 
and he looked sharply round as he walked, like a man 
besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he 
had a look of triumph underlying all, as though he had 
already done much, and was near the end of an 
achievement. 

Partly from a scruple of delicacy — which I dare say 
came too late — partly from the pleasure of startling an 
acquaintance, I desired to make my presence known 
to him without delay. 

I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward. 

“ Northmour ! ” said I. 

I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my 
days. He leaped on me without a word; something 
shone in his hand; and he struck for my heart with a 
dagger. At the same moment I knocked him head 
over heels. Whether it was my quickness, or his own 
uncertainty, I know not; but the blade only grazed my 
shoulder while the hilt and his fist struck me violently 
on the mouth. 

I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed 
the capabilities of the sand-hills for protracted ambush 
or stealthy advances and retreats; and, not ten yards 
from the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again 
upon the grass. The lantern had fallen and gone out. 
But what was my astonishment to see Northmour slip 
at a bound into the pavilion, and hear him bar the 
door behind him with a clang of iron! 


190 


J\rElV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


He had not pursued me. He had run away. North- 
mour, whom I knew for the most implacable and dar- 
ing of men, had run away! I could scarce believe my 
reason; and yet in this strange business, where all was 
incredible, there was nothing to make a work about in 
an incredibility more or less. For why was the pavilion 
secretly prepared ? Why had Northmour landed with 
his guests at dead of night, in half a gale of wind, and 
with the floe scarce covered ? Why had he sought to 
kill me ? Had he not recognized my voice ? I won- 
dered. And, above all, how had he come to have a 
dagger ready in his hand ? A dagger, or even a sharp 
knife, seemed out of keeping with the age in which we 
lived; and a gentleman landing from his yacht on the 
shore of his own estate, even although it was at night 
and with some mysterious circumstances, does not 
usually, as a matter of fact, walk thus prepared for 
deadly onslaught. The more I reflected, the further I 
felt at sea. I recapitulated the elements of mystery, 
counting them on my fingers: the pavilion secretly 
prepared for guests; the guests landed at the risk of 
their lives and to the imminent peril of the yacht; the 
guests, or at least one of them, in undisguised and 
seemingly causeless terror; Northmour with a naked 
weapon; Northmour stabbing his most intimate ac- 
quaintance at a word ; last, and not least strange, 
Northmour fleeing from the man whom he had sought 
to murder, and barricading himself, like a hunted 
creature, behind the door of the pavilion. Here were 
at least six separate causes for extreme surprise; each 
part and parcel with the others, and forming all to- 
gether one consistent story. I felt almost ashamed 
to believe my own senses. 

As I thus stood transfixed with wonder, I began to 
grow painfully conscious of the injuries I had received 
ip the scuffle; skulked round among the sand-hills; 
and, by a devious path, regained the shelter of the 
wood. On the way, the old nurse passed again within 
several yards of me, still carrying her lantern, on the 


THE PA VILIOH ON THE LINKS. 


191 


'return journey to the mansion-house of Graden. This 
made a seventh suspicious feature in the case. North- 
mour and his guests, it appeared, were to cook and do 
the cleaning for themselves, while the old woman con- 
tinued to inhabit the big empty barrack among the 
l)olicies. There must surely be great cause for 
secresy, when so many inconveniences were confronted 
to preserve it. 

So thinking, I made my way to the den. For 
greater security, I trod out the embers of the fire, and 
lit my lantern to examine the wound upon my shoul- 
der. It was a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat 
freely, and I dressed it as well as I could (for its 
position made it difficult to reach) with some rag and 
cold water from the spring. While I was thus busied, 
I mentally declared war against Northmour and his 
mystery. I am not an angry man by nature, and I 
believe there was more curiosity than resentment in 
my heart. But war I certainly declared; and, by way 
of preparation, I got out my revolver, and, having 
drawn the charges, cleaned and reloaded it with scru- 
pulous care. Next I became preoccupied about my 
horse. It might break loose, or fall to neighing, and 
so betray my camp in the Sea-Wood. I determined 
to rid myself of its neighborhood; and long before 
dawn I was leading it over the links in the direction 
of the fisher village. 


CHAPTER III. 


TELLS HOW I BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH MY WIFE. 

For two days I skulked round the pavilion, profiting 
by the uneven surface of the links. I became an 
adept in the necessary tactics. These low hillocks and 
shallow dells, running one into another, became a kind 
of cloak of darkness for my enthralling, but perhaps 
dishonorable, pursuit. Yet, in spite of this advantage, 
I could learn but little of Northmour or his guests. 

Fresh provisions were brought under cover of dark- 
ness by the old woman from the mansion-house. 
Northmour, and the young lady, sometimes together, 
but more ohen singly, would walk for an hour or two 
at a time on the beach beside the quicksand. I could 
not but conclude that this promenade was chosen with 
an eye to secresy; for the spot was open only to the 
seaward. But it suited me not less excellently; the 
highest and most accidented of the sand-hills immedi- 
ately adjoined; and from these, lying flat in a hollow, 
I could overlook Northmour or the young lady as they 
walked. 

The tall man seemed to have disappeared. Not 
only did he never cross the threshold, but he never so 
much as showed face at a window; or, at least, not 
so far as I could see; for I dared not creep forward 
beyond a certain distance in the day, since the upper 
floor commanded the bottoms of the links; and at 
night, when I could venture farther, the lower windows 
were barricaded as if to stand a siege. Sometimes I 
thought the tall man must be confined to bed, for I 
remembered the feebleness of his gait; and sometimes 
I thought he must have gone clear away, and that 
Northmour and the young lady remained alone 
192 


TH£ PAVILION ON THE LINKS. I93 

together in the pavilion. The idea, even then, dis- 
pleased me. 

Whether or not this pair were man and wife, I had 
seen abundant reason to doubt the friendliness of their 
relation. Although I could hear nothing of what they 
said, and rarely so much as glean a decided expression 
on the face of either, there was a distance, almost a 
stiffness, in their bearing which showed them to be 
either unfamiliar or at enmity. The girl walked faster 
when she was with Northmour than when she was 
alone; and I conceived that any inclination between a 
man and a woman would rather delay than accelerate 
the step. Moreover, she kept a good yard free of him, 
and trailed her umbrella, as if it were a barrier, on the 
side between them. Northmour kept sidling closer; 
and, as the girl retired from his advance, their course 
lay at a sort of diagonal across the beach, and would 
have landed them in the surf had it been long enough 
continued. But, when it was imminent, the girl would 
unostentatiously change sides and put Northmour 
between her and the sea. I watched these manoeuvres, 
for my part, with high enjoyment and approval, and 
chuckled to myself at every move. 

On the morning of the third day, she walked alone 
for some time, and I perceived, to my great concern, 
that she was more than once in tears. You will see 
that my heart was already interested more than I sup- 
posed. She had a firm yet airy motion of the body, 
and carried her head with unimaginable grace; every 
step was a thing to look at, and she seemed in my eyes 
to breathe sweetness and distinction. 

The day was so agreeable, being calm and sunshiny, 
with a tranquil sea, and yet with a healthful piquancy 
and vigor in the air, that, contrary to custom, she was 
tempted forth a second time to walk. On this occa- 
sion she was accompanied by Northmour, and they had 
been but a short while on the beach, when I saw him 
take forcible possession of her hand. She struggled, 
and uttered a cry that was almost a scream. I sprang 


NEtV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


I $4 

to my feet, unmindful of my strange position; but, ere 
I had taken a step, I saw Northmour bare-headed and 
bowing very low, as if to apologize; and dropped again 
at once into my ambush. A few words were inter- 
changed; and then, with another bow, he left the beach 
to return to the pavilion. He passed not far from me, 
and I could see him, flushed and lowering, and cutting 
savagely with his cane among the grass. It was not 
without satisfaction that I recognized my own handi- 
work in a great cut under his right eye, and a consid- 
erable discoloration round the socket. 

For some time the girl remained where he had left 
her, looking out past the islet and over the bright sea. 
Then with a start, as one who throws off preoccupation 
and puts energy again upon its mettle, she broke into 
a rapid and decisive walk. She also was much 
incensed by what had passed. She had forgotten 
where she was. And I beheld her walk straight into 
the borders of the quicksand where it is most abrupt 
and dangerous. Two or three steps farther and her 
life would have been in serious jeopardy, when I slid 
down the face of the sand-hill, which is there precipitous, 
and, running half-way forward, called to her to stop. 

She did so, and turned round. There was not a 
tremor of fear in her behavior, and she marched 
directly up to me like a queen. I was barefoot, and 
clad like a common sailor, save for an Egyptian scarf 
round my waist; and she probably took me at first for 
some one from the fisher village, straying after bait. 
As for her, when I thus saw her face to face, her eyes 
set steadily and imperiously upon mine, I was filled 
with admiration and astonishment, and thought her 
even more beautiful than I had looked to find her. 
Nor could I think enough of one who, acting with so 
much boldness, yet preserved a maidenly air that was 
both quaint and engaging ; for my wife kept an old- 
fashioned precision of manner through all her admir- 
able life — an excellent thing in woman, since it sets 
another value on her sweet familiarities. 


THE FA VI LION ON THE LINKS. 


195 


“ What does this mean ? ” she asked. 

“You were walking,” I told her, “directly into 
Graden Floe.” 

“ You do not belong to these parts,” she said again. 
“You speak like an educated man.” 

“ I believe I have a right to that name,” said I, 
“although in this disguise.” 

But her woman’s eye had already detected the sash. 

“ Oh ! ” she said; “ your sash betrays you.” 

“ You have said the word betray^" I resumed. “ May 
I ask you not to betray me ? I was obliged to disclose 
myself in your interest; but if Northmour learned my 
presence it might be worse than disagreeable for me.” 

“ Do you know,” she asked, “_^o whom you are 
speaking ? ” 

“ Not to Mr. Northmour’s wife?” I asked, by way 
of answer. 

She shook her head. All this while she was study- 
ing miy face with an embarrassing intentness. Then 
she broke out — 

“You have an honest face. Be honest like your 
face, sir, and tell me what you want and what you are 
afraid oh Do you think I could hurt you ? I believe 
you have far more power to injure me ! And yet you 
do not look unkind. What do you mean — you, a gen- 
tleman — by skulking like a spy about this desolate 
place ? Tell me,” she said, “ who is it you hate ? ” 

“I hate no one,” I answered; “and I fear no one 
face to face. My name is Cassilis — Frank Cassilis. I 
lead the life of a vagabond for my own good pleasure. 
I am one of Northmour’s oldest friends; and three 
nights ago, when I addressed him on these links, he 
stabbed me in the shoulder with a knife.” 

“ It was you ! ” she said. 

“ Why he did so,” I continued, disregarding the 
interruption, “ is more than I can guess, and more 
than I care to know. I have not many friends, nor 
am I very susceptible to friendship; but no man shall 
drive me from a place by terror. I had camped in 


196 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


Graden Sea- Wood ere he came; I camp in it still. If 
you think I mean harm to you or yours, madam, the 
remedy is in your hand. Tell him that my camp is in 
the Hemlock Den, and to-night he can stab me in 
safety while I sleep.” 

With this I doffed my cap to her, and scrambled up 
once more among the sand-hills. I do not know why, 
but I felt a prodigious sense of injustice, and felt like 
a hero and a martyr; while, as a matter of fact, I had 
not a word to say in my defence, nor so much as one 
plausible reason to offer for my conduct. I had 
stayed at Graden out of a curiosity natural enough, 
but undignified; and though there was another motive 
growing in along with the first, it was not one which, 
at that period, I could have properly explained to the 
lady of my heart. 

Certainly, that night, I thought of no one else; and, 
though her whole conduct and position seemed sus- 
picious, I could not find it in my heart to entertain a 
doubt of her integrity. I could have staked my life 
that she was clear of blame, and, though all was dark 
at the present, that the explanation of the mystery 
would show her part in these events to be both right 
and needful. It was true, let me cudgel my imagina- 
tion as I pleased, that I could invent no thfeory of her 
relations to Northmour; but I felt none the less sure 
of my conclusion because it was founded on instinct in 
place of reason, and, as I may say, went to sleep that 
night with the thought of her under my pillow. 

Next day she came out about the same hour alone, 
and, as soon as the sand-hills concealed her from the 
pavilion, drew nearer to the edge, and called me by 
name in guarded tones. I was astonished to observe 
that she was deadly pale, and seemingly under the 
influence of strong emotion. 

“ Mr. Cassilis ! ” she cried ; “ Mr. Cassilis ! ” 

I appeared at once, and leaped down upon the 
beach. A remarkable air of relief overspread her 
countenance as soon as she saw me. 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


197 


‘‘ Oh ! ” she cried, with a hoarse sound, like one 
whose bosom has been lightened of weight. And then, 
“ Thank God, you are still safe I ” she added ; “ I 
knew, if you were, you would be here." (Was not 
this strange ? So swiftly and wisely does Nature pre- 
pare our hearts for these great life-long intimacies, that 
both my wife and I had been given a presentiment on 
this the second day of our acquaintance. I had even 
then hoped that she w'ould seek me ; she had felt sure 
that she w'ould find me.) “ Do not,” she went on 
swiftly, “do not stay in this place. Promise me that 
you will sleep no longer in that wood. You do not 
know how I suffer ; all last night I could not sleep for 
thinking of your peril.” 

“Peril?” I repeated. “Peril from whom ? From 
Northmour ? ” 

“ Not so,” she said. “ Did you think I would tell 
him after what you said ? ” 

“ Not from Northmour ?” I repeated. “ Then how ? 
From whom ? I see none to be afraid of.” 

“ You must not ask me,” was her reply, “ for I am 
not free to tell you. Only believe me, and go hence 
— believe me, and go away quickly, quickly, for your 
life ! ” 

An appeal to his alarm is never a good plan to rid 
oneself of a spirited young man. My obstinacy was 
but increased by what she said, and I made it a point 
of honor to remain. And her solicitude for my safety 
still more confirmed me in the resolve. 

“You must not think me inquisitive, madam,” I 
replied ; “but, if Graden is so dangerous a place, you 
yourself perhaps remain here at some risk.” 

She only looked at me reproachfully. 

“ You and your father ,” I resumed ; but she 

interrupted me almost with a gasp. 

“ My father ! How do you know that ?” she cried. 

“ I saw you together when you landed," was my 
answer ; and I do not know why, but it seemed satis- 
factory to both of us, as indeed it was the truth. 


198 


JV£fV ARABIAN NIGHTS, 


“ But,” I continued, “ you need have no fear from me. 
I see you have some reason to be secret, and, you 
may believe me, your secret is as safe with me as if I 
were in Graden Floe. I have scarce spoken to any- 
one for years ; my horse is my only companion, and 
even he, poor beast, is not beside me. You see, then, 
you may count on me for silence. So tell me the 
truth, my dear young lady, are you not in danger ? ” 

“ Mr. Northmour says you are an honorable man,” 
she returned, “ and I believe it when I see you. I will 
tell you so much ; you are right ; we are in dreadful, 
dreadful danger, and you share it by remaining where 
you are.” 

“Ah ! ” said I ; “ you have heard of me from North- 
mour ? And he gives me a good character ? ” 

“ I asked him about you last night,” was her reply. 
“ I pretended,” she hesitated, “ I pretended to have 
met you long ago, and spoken to you of him. It was 
not true ; but I could not help myself without betray- 
ing you, and you had put me in a difficulty. He 
praised you highly.” 

“And — you may permit me one question — does this 
danger come from Northmour ? ” I asked. 

“ From Mr. Northmour ? ” she cried. “ Oh, no ; he 
stays with us to share it.” 

“While you propose that I should run away ? ” I 
said. “ You do not rate me very high.” 

“ Why should you stay '> ” she asked. “ You are no 
friend of ours.” 

I know not what came over me, for I had not been 
conscious of a similar weakness since I was a child, 
but I was so mortified by this retort that my eyes 
pricked and filled with tears, as I continued to gaze 
uix)n -her face. 

“ No, no,” she said, in a changed voice ; “I did not 
mean the words unkindly.” 

“ It was I who offended,” I said ; and I held out 
my hand with a look of appeal that somehow touched 
her, for she gave me hers at once, and even eagerly. I 


THE PA V/I.ION ON THE LINKS. 


199 


held it for awhile in mine, and gazed into her eyes. 
It was she who first tore her hand away, and, forget- 
ting all about her request and the promise she had 
sought to extort, ran at the top of her speed, and with- 
out turning, till she was out of sight. And then I 
knew that I loved her, and thought in my glad heart 
that she — she herself — was not indifferent to my suit. 
Many a time' she has denied it in after days, but it was 
with a smiling and not a serious denial. For my part, 
I am sure our hands would not have lain so closely in 
each other if she had not begun to melt to me already'. 
And, when all is said, it is no great contention, since, 
by her own avowal, she began to love me on the mor- 
row. 

And yet on the morrow very little took place. She 
came and called me down .as on the day before, 
upbraided me for lingering at Graden, and, when she 
found I was still obdurate, began to ask me more par- 
ticularly as to my arrival. I told her by what series of 
accidents I had come to witness their disembarkation, 
and how I had determined to remain, partly from the 
interest which had been wakened in me by North- 
mour’s guests, and partly because of his own murder- 
ous attack. As to the former, I fear I was disingenu- 
ous, and led her to regard herself as having been an 
attraction to me from the first moment that I saw her 
on the links. It relieves my heart to make this con- 
fession even now, when my wife is with God, and 
already knows all things, and the honesty of my pur- 
pose even in this ; for while she lived, although it often 
pricked my conscience, I had never the hardihood to 
undeceive her. Even a little secret, in such a married 
life as ours, is like the rose-leaf which kept the Prin- 
cess from her sleep. 

From this the talk branched into other subjects, and 
I told her much about my lonely and wandering exist- 
ence ; she, for her part, giving ear, and saying little. 
Although we spoke very naturally, and latterly on 
topics that might seem indifferent, we were both sweetly 


200 


A^£IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


agitated. Too soon it was time for her to go ; and we 
separated, as if by mutual consent, without shaking 
hands, for both knew that, between us, it was no idle 
ceremony. 

The next, and that was the fourth day of our 
acquaintance, we met in the same spot, but early in 
the morning, with much familiarity and yet much tim- 
idity on either side. When she had once more spoken 
about my danger — and that, I understood, was her 
excuse for coming — I, who had prepared a great deal 
of talk during the night, began to tell her how highly I 
valued her kind interest, and how no one had ever 
cared to hear about my life, nor had I ever cared to 
relate it, before yesterday. Suddenly she interrupted 
me, saying with vehemence — 

“ And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so 
much as speak to me ! ” 

I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as 
we had met, I counted her already a dear friend ; but 
my protestations seemed only to make her more des- 
perate. 

“ My father is in hiding ! ” she cried. 

“ My dear,” I said, forgetting for the first time to 
add “ young lady,” “ what do I care ? If he were in 
hiding twenty times over, would it make one thought 
of change in you ? ” 

“ Ah, but the cause ! ” she cried, “ the cause ! It is 
” she faltered for a second — “ it is disgraceful to 


CHAPTER IV. 


TELLS IN WHAT A STARTLING MANNER I LEARNED 

THAT I WAS NOT ALONE IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD. 

This was my wife’s story, as I drew it from her 
among tears and sobs. Her name was Clara Huddle- 
stone : it sounded very beautiful in my ears ; but not 
so beautiful’ as that other name of Clara Cassilis, which 
she wore during the longer and, I thank God, the hap- 
pier portion of her life. Her father, Bernard Huddle- 
stone, had been a private banker in a very large way 
of business. Many years before, his affairs becoming 
disordered, he had been led to try dangerous, and at 
last criminal, expedients to retrieve himself from ruin. 
All was in vain ; he became more and more cruelly 
involved, and found his honor lost at the same moment 
with his fortune. About this period, Northmour had 
been courting his daughter with great assiduity, though 
with small encouragement ; and to him, knowing him 
thus disposed in his favor, Bernard Huddlestone turned 
for help in his extremity. It was not merely ruin and 
dishonor, nor merely a legal condemnation, that the 
unhappy man had brought on his head. It seems he 
could have gone to prison with a light heart. "What he 
feared, what kept him awake at night or recalled him 
from slumber into frenzy, was some secret, sudden, 
and unlawful attempt upon his life. Hence, he 
desired to bury his existence and escape to one of the 
islands in the South Pacific, and it was in Northmour’s 
yacht, the Red Earl, that he designed to go. The 
yacht picked them up clandestinely upon the coast of 
Wales, and had once more deposited them at Graden, 
till she could be refitted and provisioned for the longer 
voyage. Nor could Clara doubt that her hand had 
201 


202 NEIF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 

been stipulated as the price of passage. For, although 
Northmour was neither unkind or discourteous, he had 
shown himself in several instances somewhat overbold 
in speech and manner. 

I listened, I need not say, with fixed attention, and 
put many questions as to the more mysterious part. 
It was in vain. She had no clear idea of what the 
blow was, nor of how it was expected to fall. Her 
father’s alarm was unfeigned and physically prostrat- 
ing, and he had thought more than once of making 
an unconditional surrender to the police. But the 
scheme was finally abandoned, for he was convinced 
that not even the strength of our English prisons could 
shelter him from his pursuers. He had had many 
affairs with Italy, and with Italians resident in London, 
in the later years of his business; and these last, as 
Clara fancied, were somehow connected with the doom 
that threatened him. He had shown great terror at 
the presence of an Italian seaman on board the Red 
Earl, and had bitterly and repeatedly accused North- 
mour in consequence. The latter had protested that 
Beppo (that was the seaman’s name) was a capital fel- 
low, and could be trusted to the death; but Mr. Hud- 
dlestone had continued ever since to declare that all 
was lost, that it was. only a question of days, and that 
Beppo would be the rui-n of him yet. 

I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a 
mind shaken by calamity. He had suffered heavy loss 
by his Italian transactions; and hence the sight of an 
Italian was hateful to him, and the principal part in 
his nightmare would naturally enough be played by 
one of that nation. 

What your father wants,” I said, “ is a good doctor 
and some calming medicine.” 

“But Mr. Northmour?” objected your mother. 
“ He is untroubled by losses, and yet he shares in this 
terror,” 

I could not help laughing at what I considered b^r 
simplicity. 


THE EA VILION OH THE LINKS. 


203 

" My dear,” said I, “ you have told me yourself what 
reward he has to look for. All is fair in love, you 
must remember; and if Northmour foments your 
father’s terrors, it is not at all because he is afraid of 
any Italian man, but simply because he is infatuated 
with a charming English woman.” 

She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the 
night of the disembarkation, and this I was unable to 
explain. In short, and from one thing to another, it 
was agreed between us, that I should set out at once 
for the fisher village, Graden Wester, as it was called, 
look up all the newspapers I could find, and see for 
myself if there seemed any basis of fact for these con- 
tinued alarms. The next morning, at the same hour 
and place, I was to make my report to Clara. She 
said no more on that occasion about my departure; 
nor indeed, did she make it a secret that she clung to 
the thought or my proximity as something helpful and 
pleasant; and, for my part, I could not have left her, 
if she had gone upon her knees to ask it. 

I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; 
for in those days I was an excellent pedestrian, and 
the distance, as I think I have said, was little over 
seven miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy 
turf. The village is one of the bleakest on that coast, 
which is saying much: there is a church in a hollow, 
a miserable haven in the rocks, where many boats have 
been lost as they returned from fishing; two or three 
score of stone houses arranged along the beach and in 
two streets, one leading from the harbor, and another 
striking out from it M right angles; and, at the corner 
of these two, a very dark and cheerless tavern, by way 
of principal hotel. 

I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my 
station in life, and at once called upon the minister in 
his little manse beside the graveyard. He knew me, 
although it was more than nine years since we had 
met; and when I told him that I had been long upon 
^ walking tour, and was behind with the news, readily 


204 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


lent me an armful of newspapers, dating from a month 
back to the day before. With these I sought the tav- 
ern, and, ordering some breakfast, sat down to study 
the “ Huddlestone Failure.” 

It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. 
Thousands of persons were reduced to poverty; and 
one in particular had blown out his brains as soon as 
payment was suspended. It was strange to myself 
that, while I read these details, I continued rather to 
sympathize with Mr. Huddlestone than with his vic- 
tims; so complete already was the empire of my love 
for my wife. A price was naturally set upon the 
banker’s head; and, as the case was inexcusable and 
the public indignation thoroughly aroused, the unusual 
figure of 750/. was offered for his capture. He was 
reported to have large sums of money in his posses- 
sion. One day, he had been heard of in Spain; the 
next, there was sure intelligence that he was still lurk- 
ing between Manchester and Liverpool, or along the 
border of Wales; and the day after, a telegram would 
announce his arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in all 
this there was no word of an Italian, nor any sign of 
mystery. 

In the very last paper, however, there was one item 
not so clear. The accountants who were charged to 
verify the failure had, it seemed, come upon the traces 
of a very large number of thousands, which figured for 
some time in the transactions of the house of Huddle- 
stone ; but which came from nowhere, and disappeared 
in the same mysterious fashion. It was only once 
referred to by name, and then under the initials “ X. 
X.” ; but it had plainly been floated for the first time 
into the business at a period of great depression some 
six years ago. The name of a distinguished Royal per- 
sonage had been mentioned by rumor in connection 
with this sum. “ The cowardly desperado ” — such, I 
remember, was the editorial expression — was supposed 
to have escaped with a large part of this mysterious 
fund still in his possession. 


THE PA VILIOH ON THE LINKS. 205 

I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to tor- 
ture it into some connection with Mr. Huddlestone’s 
danger, when a man entered the tavern and asked for 
some bread and cheese with a decided foreign accent. 

“ Siete Jtaliano ?” said I. 

“ S\ signor” was his reply. 

I said it was unusually far north to find one of his 
compatriots ; at which he shrugged his shoulders, and 
replied that a man would go anywhere to find work. 
What work he could hope to find at Graden Wester, I 
was totally unable to conceive ; and the incident struck 
so unpleasantly upon my mind, that I asked the land- 
lord, while he was counting me some change, whether 
he had ever before seen an Italian in the village. He 
said he had once seen some Norwegians, who had been 
shipwrecked on the other side of Graden Ness and 
rescued by the lifeboat from Cauld-haven. 

“ No !” said I ; “ but an Italian, like the man who 
has just had bread and cheese.” 

“What ?” cried he, “ yonblack-avised fellow wi’ the 
teeth ? Was he an I-talian ? Weel, yon’s the first that 
ever I saw, an’ I dare say he’s like to be the last.” 

Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, 
casting a glance into the street, beheld three men in 
earnest conversation together, and not thirty yards 
away. One of them was my recent companion in the 
tavern parlor ; the other two, by their handsome, sal- 
low features and soft hats, should evidently belong to 
the same race. A crowd of village children stood 
around them, gesticulating and talking gibberish in 
imitation. The trio looked singularly foreign to the 
bleak dirty street in which they were standing, and the 
dark gray heaven that overspread them ; and I con- 
fess my incredulity received at that moment a shock 
from which it never recovered. I might reason with 
myself as I pleased, but I could not argue down the 
effect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the 
Italian terror. 

It was already drawing towards the close of the day 


2o6 


N£JV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


before I had returned the newspapers at the manse, 
and got well forward on to the links on my way home. 

I shall never forget that walk. It grew very cold and 
boisterous ; the wind sang in the short grass about my 
feet ; thin rain showers came running oh the gusts ; 
and an immense mountain range of clouds began to 
arise out of the bosom of the sea. It would be hard 
to imagine a more dismal evening ; and whether it was 
from these external influences, or because my nerves 
were already affected by what I had heard and seen, 
my thoughts were as gloomy as the weather. 

The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a 
considerable spread of links in the direction of Graden 
Wester. To avoid observation, it was necessary to 
hug the beach until I had gained cover from the 
higher sand-hills on the little headland, when I might 
strike across, through the hollows, for the margin of 
the wood. The sun was about setting ; the tide was 
low, and all the quicksands uncovered ; and I was 
moving along, lost in unpleasant thought, when I was 
suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints of human 
feet. They ran parallel to my own course, but low 
down upon the beach instead of along the border of 
the turf ; and, when I examined them, I saw at once, 
by the size and coarseness of the impression, that it 
was a stranger to me and to those in the pavilion who 
had recently passed that way. Not only so ; but from 
the recklessness of the course which he had followed, 
steering near to the most formidable portions of the 
sand, he was as evidently a stranger to the country and 
to the ill-repute of Graden beach. 

Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter 
of a mile further, I beheld them die away into the 
south-eastern boundary of Graden Floe. There, who- 
ever he was, the miserable man had perished. One or 
two gulls, who had, perhaps, seen him disappear, 
wheeled over his sepulchre with their usual melancholy 
piping. The sun had broken through the clouds by a 
last effort, and colored the wide level of quicksands 


THE PA VILIOM OH THE LINKS. 


207 


with a dusky purple. I stood for some time gazing at 
the spot, chilled and disheartened by my own reflec- 
tions, and with a strong and commanding conscious- 
ness of death. I remember wondering how long the 
tragedy had taken, and whether his screams had been 
audible at the pavilion. And then, making a strong 
resolution, I was about to tear myself away, when a 
gust fiercer than usual fell upon this quarter of the 
beach, and I saw now, whirling high in air, now skim- 
ming lightly across the surface of the sands, a soft, 
black, felt hat, somewhat conical in shape, such as I 
had remarked already on the heads of the Italians. 

I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. 
The wind was driving the hat shoreward, and I ran 
round the border of the floe to be ready against its 
arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat for a while 
upon the quicksand, and then, once more freshening, 
landed it a few yards from where I stood. I seized it 
with the interest you may imagine. It had seen some 
service; indeed, it was rustier than either of those I 
had seen that day upon the street. The lining was 
red, stamped with the name of the maker, which I 
have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture, 
Venedig. This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name 
given by the Austrians to the beautiful city of Venice, 
then, and for long after, a part of their dominions. 

The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians 
upon every side; and for the first, and, I may say, for 
the last time in my experience, became overpowered by 
what is called panic terror. I knew nothing, that is, 
to be afraid of, and yet I admit that I was heartily 
afraid; and it was with a sensible reluctance that I 
returned to my exposed and solitary camp in the Sea- 
Wood. 

There I ate some cold porridge which had been left 
over from the night before, for I was disinclined to 
make a fire; and, feeling strengthened and reassured, 
dismissed all these fanciful terrors from my mind, and 
lay down to sleep with composure. 


2o8 


JVEPV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


How long I may have slept it is impossible for me 
to guess; but I was awakened at last by a sudden, 
blinding flash of light into my face. It woke me like 
a blow. In an instant I was upon my knees. But the 
light had gone as suddenly as it came. The darkness 
was intense. And, as it was blowing great guns from 
the sea and pouring with rain, the noises of the storm 
effectually concealed all others. 

It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained 
my self-possession. But for two circumstances, I 
should have thought I had been awakened by some 
new and vivid form of nightmare. First, the flap of 
my tent, which I had shut carefully when I retired, was 
now unfastened; and, second, I could still perceive, 
with a sharpness that excluded any theory of halluci- 
nation, the smell of hot metal and of burning oil. The 
conclusion was obvious. I had been awakened by 
some one flashing a bull’s-eye lantern in my face. It 
had been but a flash, and away. He had seen my 
face, and then gone. I asked myself the object of so 
strange a proceeding, and the answer came pat. The 
man, whoever he was, had thought to recognize me, 
and he had not. There was yet another question un- 
solved; and to this, I may say, I feared to give an 
answer; if he had recognized me, what would he have 
done ? 

My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for 
I saw that I had been visited in a mistake; and I be- 
came persuaded that some dreadful danger threatened 
the pavilion. It required some nerve to issue forth 
into the black and intricate thicket which surrounded 
and overhung the den; but I groped my way to the 
links, drenched with rain, beaten upon and deafened 
by the gusts, and fearing at every step to lay my hand 
upon some lurking adversary. The darkness was so 
complete that I might have been surrounded by an 
army and yet none the wiser, and the uproar of the 
gale so loud that my hearing was as useless as my 
sight. 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


209 


For the rest of the night, which seemed interminably 
long, I patroled the vicinity of the pavilion, without 
seeing a living creature or hearing any noise but the 
concert of the wind, the sea, and the rain. A light in 
the upper story filtered through a cranny in the shut- 
ter, and kept me company till the approach of dawn. 


CHAPTER V. 


TELLS OF AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN NORTHMOUR, 
CLARA, AND MYSELF. 

With the first peep of day, I retired from the open to 
my old lair among the sandhills, there to await the 
coming of my wife. The morning was gray, wild, and 
melancholy ; the wind moderated before sunrise, and 
then went about, and blew in puffs from the shore ; the 
sea began to go down, but the rain still fell without 
mercy. Over all the wilderness of links there was 
not a creature to be seen. Yet I felt sure the 
neighborhood was alive with skulking foes. The light 
had been so suddenly and surprisingly flashed upon my 
face as I lay sleeping, and the hat that had been blown 
ashore by the wind from over Graden Floe, were two 
speaking signals of the peril that environed Clara and 
the party in the pavilion. 

It was, perhaps, half-past seven, or nearer eight, 
before I saw the door open, and that dear figure come 
towards me in the rain. I was waiting for her on the 
beach before she had crossed the sand-hills. 

“ I have had such trouble to come ! ” she cried. 
“ They did not wish me to go walking in the rain.” 

“ Clara,” I said, “.you are not frightened ! ” 

“ No,” said she, with a simplicity that filled my heart 
with confidence.' For my wife was the bravest as well 
as the best of women ; in my experience, I have not 
found the two go always together, but with her they 
did; and she combined the extreme of fortitude with the 
most endearing and beautiful virtues. 

I told her what had happened ; and, though her cheek 
grew visibly paler, she retained perfect control over her 
senses. 


210 


THE PA VI LION ON THE LINKS. 


2II 


“You see now that I am safe,” said I in conclusion. 
“ They do not mean to ^iarm me ; for, had they chosen, 
I was a dead man last night.” 

She laid her hand upon my arm. 

“ And I had no presentiment ! ” she cried. 

Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm 
about her, and strained her to my side ; and, before 
either ot us was aware, her hands were on my shoulders 
and my lips upon her mouth. Yet up to that moment 
no word of love had passed between us. To this time 
I remember the touch of her cheek, which was wet and 
cold with the rain ; and many a time since, when she 
has been washing her face, I have kissed it again for 
the sake of that morning on the beach. Now that she 
is taken from me, and I finish my pilgrimage alone, 
I recall our old loving kindness and the deep’ honesty 
and affection which united us, and my 'present loss 
seems but a trifle in comparison. 

We may have thus stood for some seconds — for time 
passes quickly with lovers — before we were startled by 
a peal of laughter close at hand. It was not natural 
mirth, but seemed to be affected in order to conceal 
an angrier feeling. We both turned, though I still kept 
my left arm about Clara’s waist ; nor did she seek to 
withdraw herself ; and there, a few paces off upon the 
beach, stood Northmour, his head lowered, his hands 
behind his back, his nostrils white with passion. 

“ Ah ! Cassilis ! ” he said, as I disclosed my face. 

That same,” said I ; for I was not at all put about. 
“ And so, Miss Huddlestone,” he continued slowly 
but savagely, “ this is how you keep your faith to your 
father and to me ? This is the value you set upon 
your father’s life ? And you are so infatuated with this 
young gentleman that you must brave ruin, and decency, 

and common human caution ” 

“ Miss Huddlestone — ” I was beginning to 

interrupt him, when he, in his turn, cut in brutally — 

“ You hold your tongue/’ said he ; “I am speaking 
to that girl.” 


212 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“That girl, as you call her, is my wife,” said I: and 
my wife only leaned a little nearer, so that I knew she 
had affirmed my words. 

“ Your what ? ” he cried. “ You lie ! ” 

“ Northmour,” I said, “ we all know you have a bad 
temper, and I am the last man to be irritated by words. 
For all that, I propose that you speak lower, for I am 
convinced that we are not alone.” 

He looked round him, and it was plain my remark 
had in some degree sobered his passion. “What do 
you mean ! ” he asked. 

I only said one word : “ Italians.” 

He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one 
to the other. 

“ Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know,” said my 
wife. 

“What I want to know,” he broke out, “is where 
the devil Mr. Cassilis comes from, and what the devil 
Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you are married : 
that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would 
soon divorce you ; four minutes and a half, Cassilis 
I keep my private cemetery for my friends.” 

“ It took somewhat longer,” said I, “ for that Italian.” 

He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and 
then, almost civilly, asked me to tell my story. “ You 
have too much the advantage of me, Cassilis,” he 
added. I complied, of course ' and he listened, with 
several ejaculations, while I told him how I had come 
to Graden ; that it was I whom he had tried to murder 
on the night of landing ; and what I had subsequently 
seen and heard of the Italians. 

“ Well,” said he, when I had done, “ it is here at 
last ; there is no mistake about that. And what, may 
I ask, do you propose to do ? ” 

“ I propose to stay with you and lend a hand,” said I. 

“ You are a brave man,” he returned, with a peculiar 
intonation. 

“ I am not afraid,” said I. 

And so,” he continued, “ I am to understand that 


THE PA V/LION ON THE LINKS. 


213 


you two are married ? And you stand up to it before 
iny face, Miss Huddlestone ? ” 

“We are not yet married,” said Clara; “but we 
shall be as soon as we can.” 

“Bravo!” cried Northmour. “And the bargain ? 
D — n it, you’re not a fool, young woman ; I may call 
a spade a spade with you. How about the bargain ? 
You know as well as I do what your father’s life 
depends upon. I have only to put my hands under 
my coat-tails and walk away, and his throat would be 
cut before the evening.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Northmour,” returned Clara, with great 
spirit ; “ but that is what you will never do. You made 
a bargain that was unworthy of a gentleman ; but you 
are a gentleman for all that, and you will never desert a 
man whom you have begun to help.” 

“Aha ! ” said he. “ You think I will give my yacht 
for nothing ? You think I will risk my life and liberty 
for love of the old gentleman ; and then, I suppose, 
be best man at the wedding, to wind up ? Well,” he 
added, with an odd smile, “ perhaps you are not 
altogether wrong. But ask Cassilis here. He knows 
me. Am I a man to trust } Am I safe and scrupu- 
lous ? Am I kind ? ” 

“ I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I 
think, very foolishly,” replied Clara, “ but I know you 
are a gentleman, and I am not in the least afraid.” 

He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admi- 
ration ; then, turning to me, “ Do you think I would 
give her up without a struggle, Frank?” said he. “ I 
tell you plainly, you look out. The next time we come 
to blows ” 

“ Will make the third,” I interrupted, smiling. 

“ Aye, true ; so it will,” he said. “ I had forgotten. 
Well, the third time’s lucky.” 

“ The third time, you mean, you will have the crew 
of the Red Earl to help,” I said. 

“ Do you hear him ? ” he asked, turning to my wife. 

“ I hear two men speaking like cowards,” said she, 


214 


JV£PV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ I should despise myself either to think or speak like 
that. And neither of you believe one word that you 
are saying, which makes it the more wicked and silly.” 

“ She’s a trump ! ” cried Northmour. “ But she’s 
not yet Mrs. Cassilis. I say no more. The present is 
not for me.” 

Then my wife surprised me. 

“ I leave you here,” she said suddenly. “ My father 
has been too long alone. But remember this ; you are 
to be friends, for you are both good friends to me.” 

She has since told me her reason for this step. As 
long as she remained, she declares that we two would 
have continued to quarrel ; and I suppose that she 
was right, for when she was gone we fell at once into 
a sort of confidentiality. 

Northmour stared after her as she went away over 
the sand-hill. 

She is the only woman in the world ! ” he exclaimed 
with an oath. “ Look at her action.” 

I, for my part, leaped at this opportunity for a little 
further light. 

“ See here, Northmour,” said I ; “we are all in a 
tight place, are we not ? ” 

“ I believe you, my boy,” he answered, looking me 
in the eyes, and with great emphasis. “ We have all 
hell upon us, that’s the truth. You may believe me 
or not, but I’m afraid of my life.” 

“ Tell me one thing,” said I. “ What are they after, 
these Italians ? What do they want with Mr. Huddle- 
stone ? ” 

“ Don’t you know ? ” he cried. “ The black old 
scamp had cqrbonaro funds on a deposit — two hundred 
and eighty thousand ; and of course he gambled it 
away on stocks. There was to have been a revolution 
in the Tridentino, or Parma ; but the revolution is off, 
and the whole wasp’s nest is after Huddlestone. We 
shall all be lucky if we can save our skins.” 

“The carbonari \" I exclaimed: “God help him 
indeed 1 ’’ 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


215 


“Amen!” said Northmour. “And now, look 
here; I have said that we are in a fix ; and, frankly, I 
shall be glad of your help. If I can’t save Huddle- 
stone, I want at least to save the girl. Come and stay 
m the pavilion ; and, there’s my hand on it, I shall 
act as your friend until the old man is either clear or 
dead. But,” he added, “ once that is settled, you 
become my rival once again, and I warn you — mind 
yourself.” 

“ Done ! ” said I ; and we shook hands. 

“ And now let us go directly to the fort,” said 
Northmour ; and he began to lead the way through 
the rain. 


CHAPTER VI. 

TELLS OF MY INTRODUCTION TO THE TALL MAN. 

We were admitted to the pavilion by Clara, and I 
was surprised by the completeness and security of the 
defences. A barricade of great strength, and yet 
easy to displace, supported the door against any vio- 
lence from without ; and the shutters of the dining- 
room, into which I was led directly, and which was 
feebly illuminated by a lamp, were even more elabo- 
rately fortified. The panels were strengthened by 
bars and cross-bars ; and these, in their turn, were 
kept in position by a system of braces and struts, some 
abutting on the floor, some on the roof, and others, in 
fine, against the opposite wall of the apartment. It 
was at once a solid and well-designed piece of carpen- 
try ; and I did not seek to conceal my admiration. 

“ I am the engineer,” said Northmour. “ You 
remember the planks in the garden ? Behold 
them ? ” 

“ I did not know you had so many talents,” said I. 

“Are you armed?” he continued, pointing to an 
array of guns and pistols, all in admirable order, which 
stood in line against the wall or were displayed upon 
the sideboard. 

“Thank you,” I returned ; “I have gone armed 
since our last encounter. But, to tell you the truth, 
I have had nothing to eat since early yesterday 
evening. ” 

Northmour produced some cold meat, to which I 
eagerly set myself, and a bottle of good Burgundy, by 
which, wet as I was, I did not scruple to profit. I 
have always been an extreme temperance man on prin- 
ciple ; but it is useless to push principle to excess, 
and on this occasion I believe that I finished three- 
216 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


217 


quarters of the bottle. As I ate, I still continued to 
admire the preparations for defence. 

“ We could stand a. siege,” I said at length. 

“Ye — es,” drawled Northmour ; “a very little one, 
per — haps. It is not so much the strength of the 
pavilion I misdoubt ; it is the double danger that kills 
me. If-we get to shooting, wild as the country is some 
one is sure to hear it, and then — why then it’s the same 
thing, only different, as they say, caged by law, or 
killed by carbonari. There’s the choice. It is a devil- 
ish bad thing to have the law against you in this 
world, and so I tell the old gentleman up stairs. He is 
quite of my way of. thinking.” 

“ Speaking of that,” said I, “ what kind of person 
is he.” 

“ Oh, he ? ” cried the other ; “ he’s a rancid fellow 
as far as he goes. I should like to have his neck 
wrung to-morrow by all the devils in Italy. I am not 
in this affair for him. You take me? I made a bar- 
gain for Missy’s hand and I mean to have it too.” 

“That, by the way,” said I, “I understand. But 
how will Mr. Huddlestone take my .intrusion ? ” 

“Leave that to Clara,” returned Northmour. 

I could have struck him in the face for this coarse 
familiarity ; but I respected the truce, as, I am bound to 
say, did Northmour, and so long as the danger con- 
tinued not a cloud arose in our relation. I bear him 
this testimony with the most unfeigned satisfaction ; 
nor am I without pride when I look back upon my own 
behavior. For surely no two men were ever left in a 
position so invidious and irritating. 

As soon as I had done eating, we proceeded to 
inspect the lower floor. Window by window we tried 
the different supports, now and then making an incon- 
siderable change ; and the strokes of the hammer 
sounded with startling loudness through the house. I 
proposed, I remember, to make loopholes ; but he 
told me they were already made in the windows of the 
upper story. It was an anxious business this inspection, 


2i8 


JVEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


and left me down-hearted. There were two doors and 
five windows to protect, and, counting Clara, only 
four of us to defend them against an unknown number 
of foes. I communicated my doubts to Northmour, 
who assured me, with unmoved composure, that he 
entirely shared them. 

“ Before morning,” said he, “ we shall all be butch- 
ered and buried in Graden Floe. For me, that is 
written.” 

I could not help shuddering at the mention of the 
quicksand, but reminded Northmour that our enemies 
had spared me in the wood. 

“ Do not flatter yourself,” said he. “ Then you 
w’ere not in the same boat with the old gentleman; 
now you are. It’s the floe for all of us, mark my 
words.” 

I trembled for Clara; and just then her dear voice 
was heard calling us to come upstairs. Northmour 
showed me the way, and, when he had reached the 
landing, knocked at the door of what used to be called 
Jfj' Uncle's Bedroom, as the founder of the pavilion 
had designed it especially for himself. 

“Come in, Northmour; come in, dear Mr. Cassilis,” 
said a voice from within. 

Pushing open the door, Northmour admitted me 
before him into the apartment. As I came in I could 
see the daughter slipping out by the side door into the 
study, which had been prepared as her bedroom. In 
the bed, which was drawn back against the wall, instead 
of standing, as I had last seen it, boldly across the 
window, sat Bernard Huddlestone, the defaulting 
banker. Little as I had seen of him by the shifting 
light of the lantern on the links, I had no difficulty in 
recognizing him for the same. He had a long and 
sallow countenance, surrounded by a long red beard 
and side-whiskers. His broken nose and high cheek- 
bones gave him somewhat the air of a Kalmuck, and 
his light eyes shone with the excitement of a high 
fever. He wore a skull-cap of black silk; a huge 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


2ig 


Bible lay open before him on the bed, with a pair of 
gold spectacles in the place, and a pile of other books 
lay on the stand by hi? side. The green curtains lent 
a cadaverous shade to his cheek; and, as he sat propped 
on pillows, his great stature was painfully hunched, and 
his head protruded till it overhung his knees. I believe 
if he had not died otherwise, he must have fallen a 
victim to consumption in the course of but a very few 
weeks. 

He held out to me a hand, long, thin, and disagree- 
ably hairy. 

“ Come in, come in, Mr. Cassilis,” said he. Another 
protector — ahem ! — another protector. Always wel- 
come as a friend of my daughter’s, Mr. Cassilis. How 
they have rallied about me, my daughter’s friends ! 
May God in heaven bless and reward them for it ! ” 

I gave him my hand, of course, because I could not 
help it; but the sympathy I had been prepared to feel 
for Clara’s father was immediately soured by his 
appearance, and the wheedling, unreal tones in which 
he spoke. 

“ Cassilis is a good man,” said Northmour; “worth 
ten.” 

“So I hear,” cried Mr, Huddlestonc eagerly; “so 
my girl tells me. Ah, Mr. Cassilis, my sin has found 
me out, you see ! I am very low, very low; but I hope 
equally penitent. We must all come to the throne of 
grace at last, Mr. Cassilis. For my part, I come late 
indeed; but with unfeigned humility, I trust.” 

“ Fiddle-de-dee ! ” said Northmour roughly. 

“ No, no, dear Northmour ! ” cried the banker. “ You 
must not say that; you must not try to shake me. You 
forget, my dear, good boy, you forget I may be called 
this very night before my Maker.” 

His excitement was pitiful to behold; and I felt 
myself grow indignant with Northmour, whose infidel 
opinions I well knew, and heartily derided, as he con- 
tinued to taunt the poor sinner out of his humor of 
repentance. 


220 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ Pooh, my dear Huddlestone ! ” said he. “You do 
yourself injustice. You are a man of the world inside 
and out, and were up to all kinds of mischief before I 
was born. Your conscience is tanned like South 
American leather — only you forgot to tan your liver, 
and that, if you will believe me, is the seat of the 
annoyance.” 

“ Rogue, rogue ! bad boy ! ” said Mr. Huddlestone, 
shaking his finger. “ I am no precisian, if you come 
to that; I always hated a precisian; but I never lost 
hold of something better through it all. I have been 
a bad boy, Mr. Cassilis; I do not seek to deny that; 
but it was after my wife’s death, and you know, with a 
Avidower, it’s a different thing: sinful — I won’t say no, 
but there is a gradation, we shall hope. And talking 

of that Hark ! ” he broke out suddenly, his hand 

raised, his fingers spread, his face racked with interest 
and terror. “ Only the rain, bless God ! “ he added, 
after a pause, and with indescribable relief. 

For some seconds he lay back among the pillows 
like a man near to fainting ; then he gathered himself 
together, and, in somewhat tremulous tones, began once 
more to thank me for the share I was prepared to take 
in his defence. 

“ One question, sir,” said I, when he had paused. 
“ Is it true that you have money with you ?” 

He seemed annoyed by the question, but admitted 
with reluctance that he had a little. 

“ Well,” I continued, “ it is their money they are 
after, is it not ? Why not give it up to them ?” 

“ Ah ! ” replied he, shaking his head, “ I have tried 
that already, Mr. Cassilis; and alas ! that it sliould be 
so, but it is blood they want.” 

“ Huddlestone, that’s a little less than fair,” said 
Northmour. “You should mention that what you 
offered them was upwards of two hundred thousand 
short. The deficit is worth a reference; it is for what 
they call a cool sum, Frank. Then, you see, the fel- 
lows reason in their clear Italian way; and it seems to 


THE PA VJLION ON THE LINKS. 


22 r 


them, as indeed it seems to me, that they may just at 
well have both while they are about it — money and 
blood together, by George, and no more trouble for the 
extra pleasure.” 

Is it in the pavilion ? ” I asked. 

“ It is ; and I wish it was in the bottom of the sea 
instead,” said Northmour; and then suddenly — “What 
are you making faces at me- for ?” he cried to Mr, Hud- 
dlestone, on whom I had unconsciously turrled my 
back, “ Do you think Cassilis would sell you T' 

■ Mr. Huddlestone protested that nothing had been 
further from his mind. 

“It is a good thing,” retorted Northmour in his 
ugliest manner. “You might end^ by wearying us. 
What were you going to say 1 ” he added, turning to 
me. 

“ I was going to propose an occupation for the after- 
noon,” said I. “ Let us carry that money out, piece by 
piece, and lay it down before the pavilion door. If the 
carbonari come, why, it’s theirs at any rate.” 

“No, no,” cried Mr. Huddlestone; “it does not, it 
cannot belong to them ! It should be distributed pro 
rata among all my creditors.” 

“ Come, now, Huddlestone,” said Northmour, “ none 
of that.” 

“ Well, but my daughter,” moaned the wretched 
man. 

“ Your daughter will do well enough. Here are two 
suitors, Cassilis and I, neither of us beggars, between 
whom she has to choose. And as for yourself, to 
make an end of arguments, you have no right to a 
farthing, and, unless I’m much mistaken, you are going 
to die.” 

It was certainly very cruelly said ; but Mr, Huddle- 
stone was a man who attracted little sympathy ; and, 
although I saw him wince and shudder, I mentally 
endorsed the rebuke j nay, I added a contribution of 
my own. 

“Northmour and I,” I said, “are willing enough to 


222 


JVEJV AEABIAAT NIGHTS. 


help you to save your life, but not to escape with stolen 
property.” 

He struggled for a while with himself, as though he 
were on the point of giving way to anger, but prudence 
had the best of the controversy. 

“ My dear boys,” he said, “ do with me or my money 
what you will. I leave all in your hands. Let me com- 
pose myself.” 

And so we left him, gladly enough I am sure. The 
last that I saw, he had once more taken up his great 
Bible, and with tremulous hands was adjusting his 
spectacles to read. 


CHAPTER VII. 


TELLS HOW A WORD WAS CRIED THROUGH THE 
PAVILION WINDOW. 

The recollection of that afternoon will always be 
graven on my mind. Northmour and I were persuaded 
that an attack was imminent; and if it had been in our 
power to alter in any way the order of events, that 
power would have been used to precipitate rather than 
delay the critical moment. The worst was to be antic- 
ipated ; yet we could conceive no extremity so 
miserable as the suspense we were now suffering. I 
have never been an eager, though always a great, reader; 
but I never knew books so insipid as those which I 
took up and cast aside that afternoon in the pavilion. 
Even talk became impossible, as the hours went on. 
One or other was always listening for some sound, or 
peering from an upstairs window over the links. And 
yet not a sign indicated the presence of our foes. 

We debated over and over again my proposal with 
regard to the money; and had we been in complete pos- 
session of our faculties, I am sure we should have con- 
demned it as unwise ; but we were flustered with 
alarm, grasped at a straw, and determined, although it 
was as much as advertising Mr. Huddlestone’s pres- 
ence in the pavilion, to carry my proposal into effect. 

The sum was part in specie, part in bank paper, and 
part in circular notes, payable to the name of James 
Gregory. We took it out, counted it, enclosed it once 
more in a despatch-box belonging to Northmour, and 
prepared a letter in Italian which he tied to the handle. 
It was signed by both of us under oath, and declared 
that this was all the money which had escaped the 
failure of the house of Huddlestone. This was, per- 
223 


224 


NEW AE ASIAN NIGHTS. 


haps, the maddest action ever perpetrated by two per- 
sons professing to be sane. Had the dcspatch-box 
fallen into other hands than those for which it was 
intended, we stood criminally convicted on our own 
written testimony ; but, as I have said, we were neither 
of us in a condition to judge soberly, and had a thirst 
for action that drove us to do something, right or 
wrong, rather than endure the agony of waiting. 
Moreover, as we were both convinced that the hollovys 
of the links were alive with hidden spies upon our 
movements, we hoped that our appearance with the 
box might lead to a parley, and, perhaps, a com- 
promise. 

It was nearly three when we issued from the 
pavilion. The rain had taken off ; the sun shone 
quite cheerfully. I have never seen the gulls fly so 
close about the house or approach so fearlessly to 
human beings. On the very doorstep one flapped 
heavily past our heads, and uttered its wild cry in my 
verv ear. 

“There is an omen for you,” said Northmour, 
who like all freethinker^ was much under the influ- 
ence of superstition. “‘They think we are already 
dead.” 

I made some light rejoinder, but it was with Half 
my heart ; for the circumstance had impressed me. 

A yard or two before the gate, on a patch of smooth 
turf, we set down the despatch box ; and Northmour 
waved a white handkerchief over his head. Nothing 
replied. We raised our voices, and cried aloud in 
Italian that we were there as ambassadors to arrange 
the quarrel ; but the stillness remained unbroken save 
by the sea-gulls and the surf. I had a weight at my 
heart when we desisted ; and I saw that even North- 
mour was unusually pale. He looked over his shoulder 
nervously, as though he feared that some one had crept 
between him and the'pavilion door. 

“ By God,” he said in a whisper, “ this is too much 
for me ! ” 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


225 


I replied in the same key : “ Suppose there should 
be none, after all ! ” , 

“ Look there,” he returned, nodding with his head, 
as though he had been afraid to point. 

I glanced in the direction indicated ; and there, 
from the northern corner of the Sea-Wood, beheld a 
thin column of smoke rising steadily against the now 
cloudless sky. 

“ Northmour,” I said (we still continued to talk in 
whispers), “ it is not possible to endure this suspense. 
I prefer death fifty times over. Stay you here to watch 
the pavilion ; I will go forward and make sure, if I 
have to walk right into their camp.” 

He looked once again all around him with puckered 
eyes, and then nodded assentingly to my proposal. 

My heart beat like a sledge-hammer as I set out 
walking rapidly in the direction of the smoke ; and 
though up to that moment I had felt chill and shiver- 
ing, I was suddenly conscious of a glow of heat over 
all my body. The ground in this direction was very 
uneven ; a hundred men might have lain hidden in as 
many square yards about my path. But I had not prac- 
ticed the business in vain, chose such routes as cut at 
the very root of concealment, and, by keeping along 
the most convenient ridges, commanded several hol- 
lows at a time. It was not long before I was rewarded 
for my caution. Coming suddenly on to a mound 
somewhat more elevated than the surrounding hum- 
mocks I saw, not thirty yards away, a man bent almost 
double, and running as fast as his attitude permitted, 
along the bottom of a gully. I had dislodged one of 
the spies from his ambush. As soon as I sighted him, 
I called loudly both in English and Italian ; and he, 
seeing concealment was no longer possible, straight- 
ened himself out, leaped from the gully, and made 
off as straight as an arrow for the borders of the 
wood. 

It was none of my business to pursue; I had learned 
what I wanted — that we were beleaguered and watched 


226 


^^£lV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


in the pavilion; and I returned at once, and walking 
as nearly as possible in my old footsteps, to where 
Northmour awaited me beside the despatch-box. He 
was even paler than when I had left him^ and his voice 
shook a little. 

“ Could you see what he was like ? ” he asked. 

“ He kept his back turned,” I replied. 

“Let us go into the house, Frank. I don’t think 
I’m a coward, but I can stand no more of this,” he 
whispered. 

All was still and sunshiny about the pavilion as we 
turned to re-enter it; even the gulls had flown in a 
wider circuit, and were seen flickering along the beach 
and sand-hills; and this loneliness terrified me more 
than a regiment under arms. It was not until the door 
was barricaded that I could draw a full inspiration and 
relieve the weight that lay upon my bosom. North- 
mour and I exchanged a steady glance; and I suppose 
each made his own reflections on the white and 
startled aspect of the other. 

“You were right,” I said. “All is over. Shake 
hands, old man, for the last time.” 

“ Yes,” replied he, “ I will shake hands; for, as surf 
as I am here, I bear no malice. But, remember, if, by 
some impossible accident, we should give the slip tc 
these blackguards. I’ll take the upper hand of you by 
fair or foul.” 

“ Oh,” said I, “ you weary me.” 

He seemed hurt, and walked away in silence to the 
foot of the stairs, where he paused. 

“You do not understand me,” said he, “ I am not a 
swindler, and I guard myself; that is all. It may 
weary you or not, Mr. Cassilis, I do not care a rush; I 
speak for my own satisfaction, and not for your amuse- 
ment. You had better go upstairs and court the girl; 
for my part, I stay here.” 

“ And I stay with you,” I returned. “ Do you think 
I would steal a march, even with your permission.?” 

“ Frank,” he said, smiling, “ it’s a pity you are an 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


227 


ass, for you have the makings of a man. I think I 
must be fey to-day ; you cannot irritate me, even when 
you try. Do you know,” he continued softly, “ I think 
we are the two most miserable men in England, you and 
I ? we have got on to thirty without wife or child, or so 
much as a shop to look after — poor, pitiful, lost devils, 
both ! And now we clash about a girl ! As if there 
were not several millions in the United Kingdom ! 
Ah, Frank, Frank, the one who loses his throw, be it 
you or me, he has my pity ! It were better for him — 
how does the Bible say ? — that a millstone were hanged 
about his neck and he were cast into the depth of the 
sea. Let us take a drink,” he concluded suddenly, 
but without any levity of tone. 

I was touched by his words, and consented. He sat 
down on the table in the dining-room, and held up the 
glass of sherry to his eye. 

“ If you beat me, Frank,” he said, “ I shall take to 
drink. What will you do, if it goes the other way ? ” 

“ God knows,” I returned. 

“ Well,” said he, “ here is a toast in the meantime : 
‘ Italia irredenta ! "' 

The remainder of the day was passed in the same 
dreadful tedium and suspense. I laid the table for 
dinner, while Northmour and Clara prepared the meal 
together in the kitchen. I could hear their talk as I 
went to and fro, and was surprised to find it ran all 
the time upon myself. Northmour again bracketed us 
together, and rallied Clara on a choice of husbands ; 
but he continued to speak of me with some feeling, and 
uttered nothing to my prejudice unless he included 
himself in the condemnation. This awakened a sense 
of gratitude in my heart, which combined with the 
immediateness of our peril to fill my eyes with tears. 
After all, I thought — and perhaps the thought was 
laughably vain — we were here three very noble human 
beings to perish in defense of a thieving banker. 

Before we sat down to table, I looked forth from an 
upstairs window. The day was beginning to decline ; 


228 


N£:n^ ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


the links were utterly deserted; the despatch-box still 
lay untouched where we had left it hours before. 

Mr, Huddlestone, in a long yellow dressing-gown, 
took one end of the table, Clara the other; while North- 
mour and I faced each other from the sides. The 
lamp was brightly trimmed; the wine was good; the 
viands, although mostly cold, excellent of their sort. 
We seemed to have agreed tacitly; all reference to the 
impending catastrophe was carefully avoided; and, 
considering our tragic circumstances, we made a mer- 
rier party than could have been expected. From time 
to time, it is true, Northmour or I would rise from the 
table and make a round of the defences; and, on each 
of these occasions Mr. Huddlestone was recalled to a 
sense of his tragic predicament, glanced up with 
ghastly eyes, and bore for an instant on his counten- 
ance the stamp of terror. But he hastened to empty 
his glass, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, 
and joined again in the conversation. 

I was astonished at the wit and information he dis- 
played. Mr. Huddlestone’s was certainly no ordinary 
character; he had read and observed for himself; his 
gifts were sound; and, though I could never have 
learned to love the man, I began to understand 
his success in business, and the great respect 
in which he had been held before his failure. He had, 
above all, the talent of society; and though I never 
heard him speak but on this one and most unfavorable 
occasion, I set him down among the most brilliant 
conversationalists I ever met. 

He was relating with great gusto, and seemingly no 
feeling of shame, the manoeuvres of a scoundrelly 
commission merchant whom he had known and stud- 
ied in his youth, and we were all listening with an odd 
mixture of mirth and embarrassment, when our little 
party was brought abruptly to an end in the most 
startling manner. 

A noise like that of a wet finger on the window-pane 
interrupted Mr. Huddlestone’s tale ; and in an instant 


THE PA VI LION ON THE LINKS. 


229 


we were all four as white as paper, and sat tongue-tied, 
and motionless round the table. 

“ A snail,” I said at last ; for I had heard that these 
animals make a noise somewhat similar in character. 

“ Snail be d — d !” said Northmour. “ Hush !” 

The same sound was repeated twice at regular inter- 
vals ; and then a’forniidable voice shouted through the 
shutters the Italian word “ Traditore !" 

Mr. Huddlestone threw his head in the air ; his 
eyelids quivered ; next moment he fell insensible below 
the table. Northmour and I had each run to the arm- 
ory and seized a gun. Clara was on her feet with her 
hand at her throat. 

So we stood waiting, for we thought the hour of 
attack was certainly come ; but second passed after 
second, and all but the surf remained silent in the 
neighborhood of the pavilion. 

“ Quick,” said Northmour ; “ upstairs with him 
before they come.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TELLS THE LAST OF THE TALL MAN. 

Somehow or other, by hook and crook, and between 
the three of us, we got Bernard Huddlestone bundled 
upstairs and laid upon the bed in My Uncle s Room. 
During the whole process, which was rough enough, he 
gave no sign of consciousness, and he remained, as we 
had thrown him, without changing the position of a 
finger. His daughter opened his shirt and began to 
wet his head and bosom ; while Northmour and I ran 
to the window. The weather continued clear ; . the 
moon, which was now about full, had risen and shed a 
very clear light upon the links ; yet, strain our eyes as 
we might, we could distinguish nothing moving. A few 
dark spots, more or less, on the uneven expanse were 
not to be identified ; they might be crouching men, 
they might be shadows ; it was impossible to be 
sure. 

“Thank God,” said Northmour, “Aggie is not 
coming to-night.” 

Aggie was the name of the old nurse ; he had not 
thought of her till now ; but that he should think of 
her at all, was a trait that surprised me in the man. 

We were again reduced to waiting. Northmour went 
to the fireplace and spread his hands before the red 
embers, as if he were cold. I followed him mechan- 
ically with my eyes, and in so doing turned my back 
upon the window. At that moment a very faint report 
was audible from without, and a ball shivered a pane 
of glass, and buried itself in the shutter two inches 
from my head. I heard Clara scream ; and though I 
whipped instantly out of range and into a corner, she 
was there, so to speak, before me, beseeching to know 
if I were hurt. I felt that I could stand to be shot at 
every day and all day long, with such marks of solici- 
230 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 23 r 

«nde for a reward ; and I continued to reassure her, 
with the tenderest caresses and in complete forgetful- 
ness of our situation, till the voice of Northmour 
recalled me to myself. 

“ An air-gun,” he said. “ They wish to make no 
noise.” 

I put Clara aside, and looked at him. He was stand- 
ing with his back to the fire and his hands clasped 
behind him ; and I knew by the black look on his face, 
that passion was boiling within. I had seen just such 
a look before he attacked me, that March night, in the 
adjoining chamber ; and, though I could make every 
allowance for his anger, I confess I trembled for the 
consequences. He gazed straight before him ; but he 
could see us with the tail of his eye, and his temper 
kept rising like a gale of wind. With regular battle 
awaiting us outside, this prospect of an internecine strife 
within the walls began to daunt me. 

Suddenly, as I was thus closely watching his expres- 
sion and prepared against the worst, I saw a change, a 
flash, a look of relief, upon his face. He took up the 
lamp which stood beside him on the table, and turned 
to us with an air of some excitement. 

“ There is one point that we must know,” said he. 
“ Are they going to butcher the lot of us, or only 
Huddlestone ? Did they take you fo'r him, or fire at you 
for your own beaux yeaux i" 

“ They took me for him, for certain,” I replied. “ I 
am near as tall, and my head is fair.” 

“ I am going to make sure,” returned Northmour ; 
and he stepped up to the window, holding the lamp 
above his head, and stood there, quietly affronting 
death, for half a minute. 

Clara sought to rush forward and pull him from the 
place of danger ; but I had the pardonable selfishness 
to hold her back by force. 

“ Yes,” said Northmour, turning coolly from the 
window ; “ it’s only Huddlestone they want.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Northmour ] ” cried Clara ; but found no 


232 


NEIV ARABIAN- NIGHTS. 


more to add ; the temerity she had just witnessed 
seeming beyond the reach of words. 

He, on his part, looked at me, cocking his head, 
with a fire of triumph in his eyes ; and I understood 
at once that he had thus hazarded his life, merely to 
attract Clara’s notice, and depose me from my position 
as the hero of the hour. He snapped his fingers. 

“ The fire is only beginning,” he said. “ When they 
warm up to their work, they won’t be so particular.” 

A voice was now heard hailing us from the entrance. 
From the window we could see the figure of a man in 
the moonlight ; he stood motionless, his face uplifted 
to ours, and a rag of something white on his extended 
arm ; and as we looked right down upon him, though 
he was a good many yards distant on the links, we 
could see the moonlight glitter on his eyes. 

He opened his lips again, and spoke for some min- 
utes on end, in a key so loud that he might have been 
heard in every corner of the pavilion, and as far away 
as the borders of the wood. It was the same voice 
that had already shouted “ Traditore ! ” through the 
shutters of the dining-room ; this time it made a com- 
plete and clear statement. If the traitor “ Oddlestone ” 
were given up, all others should be spared ; if not, no 
one should escape to tell the tale. 

“ Well, Huddlestone, what do you say to that } ” 
asked Northmour, turning to the bed. 

Up to that moment the banker had given no sign of 
life, and I, at least, had supposed him to be still lying 
in a faint ; but he replied at once, and in such tones 
as I have never heard elsewhere, save from a delirious 
patient, adjured and besought us not to desert him. 
It was the most hideous and abject performance that 
my imagination can conceive. 

“ Enough,” cried Northmour ; and then he threw 
open the window, leaned out into the night, and in a 
tone of exultation, and with a total forgetfulness of 
what was due to the presepce of a lady, poured out 
upon the ambassador a string of the most abominable 


THE PA VILION ON THE LINKS. 


233 


raillery both in English and Italian, and bade him 
be gone where he had come from. I believe that 
nothing so delighted Northmour at that moment as 
the thought that we must all infallibly perish before 
the night was out. 

Meantime the Italian put his flag of truce into his 
pocket, and disappeared, at a leisurely pace, among 
the sand-hills. 

“They make honorable war,” said Northmour. 
“They are all gentlemen and soldiers. For the credit 
of the thing, I wish we could change sides — you and I, 
Frank, and you too. Missy my darling — and leave that 
being on the bed to some one else. Tut ! Don’t look 
shocked ! We are all going post to what they call 
eternity, and may as well be above-board while there’s 
time. As far as I’m concerned, if I could first strangle 
Huddlestone and then get Clara in my arms, I could 
die with some pride and satisfaction. And as it is, by 
God, I’ll have a kiss ! ” 

Before I could do anything to interfere, he had 
rudely embraced and repeatedly kissed the resisting 
girl. Next moment I had pulled him away with fury, 
and flung him heavily against the wall. He laughed 
loud and long, and I feared his wits had given way 
under the strain ; for even in the best of days he had 
been a sparing and a quiet laugher. 

“ Now, Frank,” said he, when his mirth was some- 
what appeased, “ it’s your turn. Here’s my hand. 
Good-bye ; farewell ! ” Then, seeing me stand rigid 
and indignant, and holding Clara to my side — “ Man ! ” 
he broke out, “ are you angry ? Did you think we 
were going to die with all the airs and graces of 
society ? I took a kiss ; I’m glad I had it ; and now 
you can take another if you like, and square accounts.” 

I turned from him with a feeling of contempt which 
I did not seek to dissemble. 

“ As you please,” said he. “ You’ve been a prig in 
life ; a prig you’ll die,” 

And with that he sat down in a chair, a rifle over 


234 


JVEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


the knee, and amused himself with snapping the lock ; 
but I could see that his ebullition of light spirits (the 
only one I ever knew him to display) had already 
come to an end, and was succeeded by a sullen, scowl- 
ing humor. 

All this time our assailants might have been entering 
the house, and we been none the wiser ; we had in 
truth almost forgotten the danger that so imminently 
overhung our days. But just then Mr. Huddlestone 
uttered a cry, and leaped from the bed.. 

I asked him what was wrong. 

“ Fire ! ” he cried. “ They have set the house on 
fire ! ” 

Northmour was on his feet in an instant, and he and 
I ran through the door of communication with the 
study. The room was illuminated by a red and angry 
light. Almost at the moment of our entrance, a tower 
of flame arose in front of the window, and, with a 
tingling report, a pane fell inwards on the carpet. 
They had set fire to the lean-to out-house, where 
Northmour used to nurse his negatives. 

“ Hot work,” said Northmour. “ Let us try in your 
old room.” 

We ran thither in a breath, threw up the casement, 
and looked forth. Along the whole back wall of the 
pavilion piles of fuel had been arranged and kindled; 
and it is probable they had been drenched with min- 
eral oil, for, in spite of the morning’s rain, they all 
burned bravely. The fire had taken a firm hold 
already on the outhouse, which blazed higher and 
higher every moment; the back door was in the centre 
of a red-hot bonfire; the eaves we could see, as we 
looked upward, were already smouldering, for the roof 
overhung, and was supported by considerable beams of 
wood. At the same time, hot, pungent, and choking 
volumes of smoke began to fill the house. There was 
not a human being to be seen to right or left. 

“ Ah, well ! ” said Northmour, “ here’s the end, 
thank God.” 


THE PA VI LI OH ON THE LINKS. 235 

And we returned to My Uncle's Room. Mr. Hud- 
dlestone was putting on his boots, still violently 
trembling, but with an air of determination such as I 
had not hitherto observed. Clara stood close by him, 
with her cloak, in both hands ready to throw about her 
shoulders, and a strange look in her eyes, as if she were 
half hopeful, half doubtful of her father. 

“ Well, boys and girls,” said Northmour, “ how 
about a sally ? The oven is heating; it is not good to 
stay here and be baked; and, for my part, I want to 
come to my hands with them, and be done.” 

“There is nothing else left,” I replied. 

And both Clara and Mr. Huddlestone, though with 
a very different intonation, added, “ Nothing.” 

As we went downstairs the heat was excessive, and 
the roaring of the fire filled our ears; and we had 
scarce reached the passage before the stairs window 
fell in, a branch of flame shot brandishing through the 
aperture, and the interior of the pavilion became lit 
up with that dreadful and fluctuating glare. At the 
same moment we heard the fall of something heavy 
and inelastic in the upper story. The whole pavilion, 
it was plain, had gone alight like a box of matches, 
and now not only flamed sky-high to land and sea, but 
threatened with every moment to crumble and fall in 
about our ears. 

Northmour and I cocked our revolvers. Mr. Hud- 
dlestone, who had already refused a firearm, put us 
behind him with a manner of command. 

“ Let Clara open the door,” said he. “ So, if they 
fire a volley, she will be protected. And in the mean- 
time stand behind me. I am the scapegoat; my sins 
have found me out.” 

I heard him, as I stood breathless by his shoulder, 
with my pistol ready, pattering off prayers in a tremu- 
lous, rapid whisper; and I confess, horrid as the 
thought may seem, I despised him for thinking of sup- 
plications in a moment so critical and thrilling. In 
the meantime, Clara, who was dead white but still 


236 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


possessed her faculties, had displaced the barricade 
from the front door. Another moment, and she had 
pulled it open. Firelight and moonlight illuminated 
the links with confused and changeful lustre, and far 
away against the sky we could see a long trail of glow- 
ing smoke. 

Mr. Huddlestone, filled for the moment with a 
strength greater than his own, struck Northmour and 
myself a back-han.der in the chest; and while we were 
thus for the moment incapacitated from action, lifting 
his arms above his head like one about to dive, he ran 
straight forward out of the pavilion. 

“ Here am I ! ” he cried — “ Huddlestone ! Kill me, 
and spare the others ! ” 

His sudden appearance daunted, I suppose, our 
hidden enemies; for Northmour and I had time to 
recover, to seize Clara between us, one by each arm, 
and to rush forth to his assistance, ere anything 
further had taken place. But scarce had we passed 
the threshold when there came near a dozen reports 
and flashes from every direction among the hollows of 
the links. Mr. Huddlestone staggered, uttered a 
weird and freezing cry, threw up his arms over his 
head, and fell backward on the turf. 

“Traditore! Traditore!” cried the invisible 
avengers. 

And just then, a part of the roof of the pavilion fell 
in, so rapid was the progress of the fire. A loud, 
vague, and horrible noise accompanied the collapse, 
and a vast volume of flame went soaring up to heaven. 
It must have been visible at that moment frorri twenty 
miles out at sea, from the shore' at Graden Wester, and 
far inland from the peak of Graystiel, the most eastern 
summit of the Caulder Hills. Bernard Huddlestone, 
although God knows what were his obsequies, had a 
fine pyre at the moment of his death. 


CHAPTER IX. 


TELLS HOW NORTHMOUR CARRIED OUT HIS THREAT. 

I should have the greatest difficulty to tell you what 
followed next after this tragic circumstance. It is all 
to me, as I look back upon it, mixed, strenuous, and 
ineffectual, like the struggles of a sleeper in a night- 
mare. Clara, I remember, uttered a broken sigh and 
would have fallen forward to earth, had not North- 
mour and I supported her insensible body. I do 
not think we were attacked ; I do not remember 
even to have seen an assailant ; and I believe we 
deserted Mr. Huddlestone without a glance. I only 
remember running like a man in a panic, now car- 
rying Clara altogether in my own arms, now shar- 
ing her weight with Northmour, now scuffling con- 
fusedly for the possession of that dear burden. 
Why we should have made for my camp in the 
Hemlock Den, or how we reached it, are points lost 
for ever to my recollection. The first moment at 
which I became definitely sure, Clara had been suffered 
to fall against the outside of my little tent, Northmour 
and I were tumbling together on the ground, and he, 
with contained ferocity, was striking for my head with 
the butt of his revolver. He had already twice 
wounded me on the scalp; and it is to the consequent 
loss of blood that I am tempted to attribute the sud- 
den clearness of my mind. 

I caught him by the wrist. 

“Northmour,” I remember saying, “you can kill 
me afterwards. Let us first attend to Clara.” 

He was at that moment uppermost. Scarcely had 
the words passed my lips, when he had leaped to his 
feet and ran towards the tent; and the next moment, 

237 


238 


J\r£tV ARABIAN NKHTS. 


he was straining Clara to his heart and covering her 
unconscious hands and face with his caresses. 

“ Shame ! ” I cried. “ Shame to you, Northmour ! ” 

And, giddy though I still was, I struck him 
repeatedly upon the head and shoulders. 

He relinquished his grasp, and faced me in the 
broken moonlight. 

“ I had you under, and let you go,” said he; “ and 
now you strike me ! Coward ! ” 

“ You are the coward,” I retorted. Did she wish 
your kisses while she was still sensible of what she 
wanted ? Not she ! And now she may be dying; and 
you waste this precious time, and abuse her helpness- 
ness. Stand aside, and let me help her.” 

He confronted me for a moment, white and mena- 
cing; then suddenly he stepped aside. 

” Help her then,” said he. 

I threw myself on my knees beside her, and loos- 
ened, as well as I was able, her dress and corset; but 
while I was thus engaged, a grasp descended on my 
shoulder. 

“Keep your hands off her,” said Northmour 
fiercely. “ Do you think I have no blood in my 
veins ? ” 

“ Northmour,” I cried, “if you will neither help her 
yourself, nor let me do so, do you know that I shall 
have to kill you ? ” 

“ That is better ! ” he cried. “ Let her die also, 
where’s the harm ? Step aside from that girl ! and 
stand up to fight.” 

“ You will observe,” said I, half-rising, “ that I have 
not kissed her yet.” 

“ I dare you to,” he cried. 

I do not know what possessed me ; it was one of 
the things I am most ashamed of in my life, though, as 
my wife used to say, I knew that my kisses would be 
always welcome were she dead or living; down I fell 
again upon my knees, parted the hair from her fore- 
head, and, with the dearest respect, laid my lips for a 


THE PA VI LI ON ON THE LINKS. 239 

moment on that cold brow. It was such a .caress as a 
father might have given; it was such a one as was not 
unbecoming from a man soon to die to a woman 
already dead. 

“And now,” said I, “ I am at your service, Mr. 
Northmour.” 

But I saw, to my surprise, that he had turned his 
back upon me. 

“ Do you hear ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes,” said he, “ I do. If you wish to fight, I am 
ready. If not, go on and save Clara. All is one to 
me.” 

I did not wait to be twice bidden; but, stooping 
again over Clara, continued my efforts to revive her. 
She still lay white and lifeless; I began to fear that her 
sweet spirit had indeed fled beyond recall, and horror 
and a sense of utter desolation seized upon my heart. 
I called her by name with the most endearing inflec- 
tions; I chafed and heather hands; now I laid her 
head low, now supported it against my knee; but all 
seemed to be in vain, and the lids still lay heavy on 
her eyes. 

“ Northmour,” I said, “there is my hat. For God’s 
sake bring some water from the spring.” 

Almost in a moment he was by my side with the 
water. 

, “ I have brought it in my own,” he said. “You do 
not grudge me the privilege ? ” 

“Northmour,” I was beginning to say, as I laved 
her head and breast; but he interrupted me savagely. 

“ Oh, you hush up ! ” he said. “ The best thing you 
can do is to say nothing.” 

I had certainly no desire to talk, my mind being 
swallowed up in concern for my dear love and her 
condition; so I continued in silence to do my best 
towards her recovery, and, when the hat was empty, 
returned it to him, with one word — “More.” He 
had, perhaps, gone several times upon this errand, 
when Clara reopened her eyes. 


ATE IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


240 

“ Now,” said he, “ since she is better, you can spare 
me, can you not ? I wish you a good night, Mr. 
Cassilis.” 

And with that he was gone among the thicket. I 
made a fire, for I had now no fear of the Italians, who 
had even spared all the little possessions left in my 
encampment; and, broken as she was by the excite- 
ment and the hideous catastrophe of the evening, I 
managed, in one way or another — by persuasion, 
encouragement, warmth, and such simple remedies as 
I could lay my hand on — to bring her back to some 
composure of mind and strength of body. 

Day had already come, when a sharp “ Hist ! ” 
sounded from the thicket. I started from the ground; 
but the voice of Northmour was heard adding, in the 
most tranquil tones: “ Come here, Cassilis, and alone; 
I want to show you something.” 

I consulted Clara with my eyes, and, receiving her 
tacit permission, left her alone, and clambered out of 
the den. At some distance off I saw Northmour lean- 
ing against an elder; and, as soon as he perceived me, 
he began walking seaward. I had almost overtaken 
him as he reached the outskirts of the wood. 

“ Look,” said he, pausing. 

A couple of steps more brought me out of the foli- 
age. The light of the morning lay cold and clear over 
that well-known scene. The pavilion was but a black- 
ened wreck; the roof had fallen in, one of the gables 
had fallen out; and, far and near, the face of the links 
was cicatrized with little patches of burnt furze. Thick 
smoke still went straight upwards in the windless air 
of the morning, and a great pile of ardent cinders 
filled the bare walls of the house, like coals in an open 
grate. Close by the islet a schooner yacht lay to, and 
a well-manned boat was pulling vigorously for the shore. 

” The Red Earl ! ” I cried. “ The Red Earl twelve 
hours too late ! ” 

“Feel in your pocket, Frank. Are you armed?” 
asked Northmour. 


THE PA VI LION ON THE LINKS. 


241 


I obeyed him, and I think I must have become 
deadly pale. My revolver had been taken from me, 

“You see I have you in my power,” he continued, 
“ I disarmed you last night while you were nursing 
Clara; but this morning — here — take your pistol. No 
thanks ! ” he cried, holding up his hand, “ I do not 
like them; that is the only way you can annoy me 
now.” 

He began to walk forward across the links to meet 
the boat, and I followed a step or two behind In 
front of the pavilion I paused to see where Mr. Hud- 
dlestone had fallen; but there was no sign of him, nor 
so much as a trace of blood, 

“ Graden Floe,” said Northmour. 

He continued to advance till we had come to the 
head of the beach, 

“ No farther, pl'ease,” said he, “ Would you like to 
take her to Graden House ? ” 

“ Thank you,” replied I; “I shall try to get her to 
the minister’s at Graden Wester,” 

The prow of the boat here grated on the beach, and 
a sailor jumped ashore with a line in his hand. 

“ Wait a minute, lads ! ” cried Northmour; and then 
lower and to my private ear; “You had better say 
nothing of all this to her,” he added. 

“ On the contrary ! ” I broke out, “ she shall know 
everything that I can tell. ” ^ 

“ You do not understand,” he returned, with an air 
of great dignity. “ It will be nothing to her; she 
expects it of me. Good-bye ! ” he added, with a nod. 

I offered him my hand. 

“ Excuse me,” said he. “ It’s small, I know; but I 
can’t push things quite so far as that. I don’t wish 
any sentimental business, to sit by your hearth a white- 
haired wanderer, and all that. Quite the contrary; I 
hope to God I shall never again clap eyes on either 
one of you.” 

“ Well, God bless you, Northmour ! ” I said heartily. 

“ Oh, yes,” he returned. 


242 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


He walked down the beach; and the man who Was 
ashore gave him an arm on board, and then shoved 
off and leaped into the bows himself. Northmour 
took the tiller; the boat rose to-the waves, and the 
oars between the thole-pins sounded crisp and meas- 
ured in the air. 

They were not yet half way to the Red Earl, and I 
was still watching their progress, when the sun rose 
out of the sea. 

One word more, and my story is done. Years after, 
Northmour was killed fighting under the colors of 
Garibaldi for the liberation of Tytol. 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 


A STORY OF FRANCIS VILLON. 




A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 


I T was late in November, 1456. The snow fell over 
Paris with rigorous, relentless persistence ; some- 
times the wind made a sally and scattered it in flying 
vortices ; sometimes there was a lull, and flake after 
flake descended out of the black night air, silent, cir- 
cuitous, interminable. To poor people, looking up 
under moist eyebrows, it seemed a wonder where it all 
came from. Master Francis Villon had propounded 
an alternative that afternoon, at a tavern window : was 
it only Pagan Jupiter plucking geese upon Olympus? 
or were the holy angels moulting ? He was only a poor 
Master of Arts, he went on ; and as the question some- 
what touched upon divinity, he durst not venture to 
conclude. A silly old priest from Montargis, who was 
among the company, treated the young rascal to a 
bottle of wine in honor of the jest and grimaces with 
which it was accompanied, and swore on his own white 
beard that he had been just such another irreverent 
dog when he was Villon’s age. 

The air was raw and pointed, but not far below 
freezing ; and the flakes were large, damp, and adhe- 
sive. The whole city was sheeted up. An army 
might have marched from end to end and not a foot- 
fall given the alarm. If there were any belated birds 
in heaven, they saw the island like a large white patch, 
and the bridges like slim white spars, on the black 
ground of the river. High up overhead the snow set- 
tled among the tracery of the cathedral towers. Many 
a niche was drifted full ; many a statue wore a long 
white bonnet on its grotesque or sainted head. The 
gargoyles had been transformed into great false noses, 
drooping towards the point. The crockets were like 
245 


246 


A^£fV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


upright pillows swollen on one side. In the intervals 
of the wind, there was a dull sound of dripping about 
the precincts of the church. 

The cemetery of St., John had taken its own share 
of the snow. All the graves were decently covered ; 
tall white housetops stood around in grave array; 
worthy burghers were long ago in bed, be-nightcapped 
like their domiciles ; there was no light in all the 
neighborhood but a little peep from a lamp that hung 
swinging in the church choir, and tossed the shadows 
to and fro in time to its oscillations. The clock was 
hard on ten when the patrol went by with halberds 
and a' lantern, beating their hands ; and they saw 
nothing suspicious about the cemetery of St. John. 

Yet there was a small house, b^ked up against the 
cemetery wall, which was still awake, and awake to 
evil purpose, in that snoring district. There was not 
much to betray it from without ; only a stream of 
warm vapor from the chimney-top, a patch where the 
snow melted on the roof, and a few half-obliterated 
footprints at the door. But within, behind the shut- 
tered windows. Master Francis Villon the poet, and 
some of the thievish crew with whom he consorted, 
were keeping the night alive and passing round the 
bottle. 

A great pile of living embers diffused a strong and 
ruddy glow from the arched chimney. Before this 
straddled Dom Nicolas, the Picardy monk, with his 
skirts picked up and his fat legs bared to the comfort- 
able warmth. His dilated shadow cut the room in 
half ; and the firelight only escaped on either side of 
his broad person, and in a little pool between his out- 
spread feet. His face had the beery, bruised appear- 
ance of the continual drinker’s ; it was covered with 
a network of congested veins, purple in ordinary cir- 
cumstances, but now pale violet, for even with his 
back to the fire the cold pinched him on the other 
side. His cowl had half fallen back, and' made a 
strange excrescence on either side of his bull neck, 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


247 


So he straddled, grumbling, and cut the room in half 
with the shadow of his portly frame. 

On the right, Villon and Guy Tabary were huddled 
together over a scrap of parchment ; Villon making a 
ballade which he was to call the “ Ballade of Roast 
Fish,” and Tabary spluttering admiration at his shoul- 
der. The poet was a rag of a man, dark, little, and 
lean, with hollow cheeks and thin black locks. He 
carried his four-and-twenty years with feverish anima- 
tion. Greed had made folds about his eyes, evil 
smiles had puckered his mouth. The wolf and pig 
struggled together in his face. It was an eloquent, sharp, 
ugly, earthly countenance. His hands were small and 
prehensile, with fingers knotted like a cord ; and they 
were continually flickering in front of him in violent 
and expressive pantomime. As for Tabary, a broad, 
complacent, admiring imbecility breathed from his 
squash nose and slobbering lips : he had become a 
thief, just as he might have become the most decent of 
burgesses, by the imperious chance that rules the lives 
of human geese and human donkeys. 

At the monk’s other hand, Montigny and Thevenin 
Pensete played a game of chance. About the first 
there clung some flavor of good birth and training, as 
about a fallen angel; something long, lithe, and courtly 
in the person; something aquiline and darkling in the 
face. Thevenin, poor soul, was in great feather: he had 
done a good stroke of knavery that afternoon in the 
Faubourg St. Jacques, and all night he had been gain- 
ing from Montigny. A flat smile illuminated his face; 
his bald head shone rosily in a garland of red curls; 
his little protuberant stomach shook with silent chuck- 
lings as he swept in his gains. 

“ Doubles or quits ?” said Thevenin. 

Montigny nodded grimly. 

“ Some tnay prefer to dine in state," wrote Villon, 
On bread and cheese on silver plate. Or, or— help 
me out, Guido ! ” 

'Pabary giggled. 


248 


ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ Or parsley on a golden dish” scribbled the poet. 

The wind was freshening* without; it drove the snow 
before it, and sometimes raised its voice in a victorious 
whoop, and made sepulchral grumblings in the chim- 
ney. The cold was growing sharper as the night went 
on. Villon, protruding his lips, imitated the gust with 
something between a whistle and a groan. It was an 
eerie, uncomfortable talent of the poets, much detested 
by the Picardy monk. 

“ Can’t you hear it rattle in the gibbet ? ” said Vil- 
lon. “ They are all dancing the devil’s jig on nothing, 
up there. You may dance, my gallants, you’ll be none 
the warmer! Whew! what a gust ! Down went some- 
body just now ! A medlar the fewer on the three- 
legged medlar-tree! — I say, Dom Nicolas, it’ll be cold 
to-night on the St. Denis Road ? ” he asked. 

Dom Nicolas winked both his big eyes, and seemed 
to choke upon his Adam’s apple. Montfaucon, the great 
grisly Paris gibbet, stood hard by the St. Denis Road, 
and the pleasantry touched him on the raw. As for 
Tabary, he laughed immoderately over the medlars; 
he had never heard anything more light-hearted; and 
he held his sides and crowed. Villon fetched him a 
fillip on the nose, which turned his mirth into an 
attack of coughing. 

“ Oh, stop that row,” said Villon, and think of 
rhymes to ‘fish.’” 

” Doubles or quits,” said Montigny doggedly. 

“With all my heart,” quoth Thevenin. 

“ Is there any more in that bottle ? ” asked the monk. 

“ Open another,” said Villon. “ How do you ever 
hope to fill that big hogshead, your body, with little 
things like bottles ? And how do you expect to get to 
heaven ? How many angels, do you fancy, can be 
spared to carry up a single monk from Picardy ? Or 
do you think yourself another Elias — and they’ll send 
the coach for you ? ” 

Hominibus impossibile” replied the monk as he 
filled his glass. 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


249 


. Tabary was in ecstasies. 

Villon filliped his nose again. 

“ Laugh at my jokes, if you like,” he said. 

“ It was very good,” objected Tabary. 

Villon made a face. at him. “Think of rhymes to 
‘ fish,’ ” he said. “ What have you to do with Latin ? 
You’ll wish you knew none of it at the great assizes, 
when the devil calls for Guido Tabary, clericus — the 
devil with the hump-back and red-hot finger-nails. 
Talking of the devil,” he added in a whisper, “ look 
at Montigny ! ” 

All three peered covertly at the gamester. He did 
not seem to be enjoying his luck. His mouth was a 
little to a side; one nostril nearly shut, and the other 
much inflated. The black dog was on his back, as 
people say, in terrifying nursery metaphor; and he 
breathed hard under the gruesome burden. 

“ He looks as if he could knife him,” whispered 
Tabary, with round eyes. 

The monk shuddered, and turned his face and 
spread his open hands to the red embers. It was the 
cold that thus affected Dom Nicolas, and not any 
excess of moral sensibility. 

“ Come now,” said Villon — “ about this ballade. 
How does it run so far?” And beating time with his 
hand, he read it aloud to Tabary. 

They were interrupted at the fourth rhyme by a 
brief and fatal movement among the gamesters. The 
round was completed, and Thevenin was just opening 
his mouth to claim another victory, when Montigny 
leaped up, swift as an adder, and stabbed him to the 
heart. The blow took effect before he had time to 
utter a cry, before he had time to move. A tremor or 
two convulsed his frame; his hands opened and shut, 
his heels rattled on the floor; then his head rolled 
backward over one shoulder with the eyes wide open; 
and Thevenin Pensete’s spirit had returned to Him 
who made it. 

Everyone sprang to his feet; but the business was 


250 


JVEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


over in two twos. The four living fellows looked at 
each other in rather a ghastly fashion; the dead man 
contemplating a corner of the roof with a singular and 
ugly leer. 

“ My God ! ” said Tabary; and he began to pray in 
Latin. 

Villon broke out into hysterical laughter. He came 
a step forward and ducked a ridiculous bow at Theve- 
nin, and laughed still louder. Then he sat down sud- 
denly, all of a heap, upon a stool, and continued 
laughing bitterly as though he would shake himself to 
pieces. 

Montigny recovered his composure first. 

“ Let’s see what he has about him,” he remarked; 
and he picked the dead man’s pockets with a prac- 
ticed hand, and divided the money into four equal 
portions on the table. “ There’s for you,” he said. 

The monk received his share with a deep sigh, and 
a single stealthy glance at the dead Thevenin, who 
was beginning to sink into himself and topple side- 
ways off the chair. 

“ We’re all in for it,” cried Villon, swallowing his 
mirth. “ It’s a hanging job for every man jack of us 
that’s here — not to speak of those who aren’t.” He 
made a shocking gesture in the air with his raised 
right hand, and put out his tongue and threw his head 
on one side, so as to counterfeit the appearance of one 
who has been hanged. Then he pocketed his share of 
the spoil, and executed a shuffle with his feet as if to 
restore the circulation. 

Tabary was the last to help himself ; he made a dash 
at the money, and retired to the other end of the 
apartment. 

Montigny stuck Thevenin upright in the chair, and 
drew out the dagger, which was followed by a jet of 
blood. 

“ You fellows had better be moving,” he said, as he 
wiped the blade on his victim’s doublet. 

“ I think we had,” returned Villon, with a gulp. 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


251 


“ Damn his fat head !” he broke out, “ It sticks in 
my throat like phlegm. What right has a man to have 
red hair when he is dead ?” And he fell all of a heap 
again upon the stool, and fairly covered his face with 
his hands. 

Montigny and Dom Nicolas laughed aloud, even 
Tabary feebly chiming in. 

“ Cry baby,” said the monk. 

“ I always said he was a woman,” added Montigny, 
with a sneer. “ Sit up, can’t you ?” he went on, giv- 
ing another shake to the murdered body. “ Tread out 
that fire, Nick !” 

But Nick was better employed; he was quietly tak- 
ing Villon's purse, as the poet sat, limp and trembling, 
on the stool where he had been making a ballade not 
three minutes before. Montigny and Tabary dumbly 
demanded a share of the booty, which the monk 
silently promised as he passed the little bag into the 
bosom of his gown. In many ways an artistic nature 
unfits a man for practical existence. 

No sooner had the theft been accomplished than Vil- 
lon shook himself, jumped to his feet, and began 
helping to scatter and extinguish the embers. Mean- 
while Montigny opened the door and cautiously peered 
into the street. The coast was clear ; there -was no 
meddlesome patrol in sight. Still it was judged wiser 
to slip out severally ; and as Villon was himself in a 
hurry to escape from the neighborhood of the dead 
Thevenin, and the rest were in a still greater hurry to 
get rid of him before he should discover the loss of 
his money, he was the first by general consent to issue 
forth into the street. 

The wind had triumphed and swept all the clouds 
from heaven. Only a few vapors, as thin as moon- 
light, fleeted rapidly across the stars. It was bitter 
cold; and by a common optical effect, things seemed 
almost more definite than in the broadest daylight. 
The sleeping city was absolutely still; a company of 
white hoods, a field full of little alps, below the twink- 


252 


NEPV AEABIAN NIGHTS. 


ling stars. Villon cursed his fortune. Would it wete 
still snowing ! Now, wherever he went, he left an 
indelible trail behind him on the glittering streets ; 
wherever he went he was still tethered to the house by 
the cemetery of St. John ; wherever he went he must 
weave, with his own plodding feet, the rope that bound 
him to the crime and would bind him to the gallows. 
The leer of the dead man came back to him with a 
new significance. He snapped his fingers as if to pluck 
up his own spirits, and choosing a street at random, 
stepped boldly forward in the snow. 

Two things preoccupied him as he went : the aspect 
of the gallows at Montfaucon in this bright, windy 
phase of the night’s existence, for one ; and for 
another, the look of the dead man with his bald head 
and garland of red curls. Both struck cold upon his 
heart, and he kept quickening his pace as if he could 
escape from unpleasant thoughts by mere fleetness of 
foot. Sometimes he looked back over his shoulder 
with a sudden nervous jerk ; but he was the only mov- 
ing thing in the white streets, except when the wind 
swooped round a corner and threw up the snow, which 
was beginning to freeze, in spouts of glittering dust. 

Suddenly he saw, a long way before him, a black 
clump and a couple of lanterns. The clump was in 
motion, and the lanterns swung as though carried by 
men walking. It was a patrol. And though it was 
merely crossing his line of march he judged it wiser 
to get out of eyeshot as speedily as he could. He was 
not in the humor to be challenged, and he was con- 
scious of making a very conspicuous mark upon the 
snow. Just on his left hand there stood a great hotel, 
with some turrets and a large porch before the door ; 
it was half-ruinous, he remembered, and had long stood 
e.npty ; and so he made three steps of it, and jumped 
in’.o the shelter of the porch. It was pretty dark inside, 
after the glimmer of the snowy streets, and he was 
groping forward with outspread hands, when he stum- 
bled over some substance which offered an indescriba- 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


253 


ble mixture of resistances, hard and soft, firm and 
loose. His heart gave a leap, and he sprang two steps 
back and stared dreadfully at the obstacle. Then he 
gave a little laugh of relief. It was only a woman, and 
she dead. He knelt beside her to make sure upon 
this latter point. She was freezing cold, and rigid like 
a stick. A little ragged finery fluttered in the wind 
about her hair, and her cheeks had been heavily 
rouged that same afternoon. Her pockets were quite 
empty ; but in her stocking, underneath the garter, 
Villon found two of the small coins that went by the 
name of whites. It was little enough ; but it was 
always something ; and the poet was moved with a 
deep sense of pathos that she should have died before 
she had spent her money. That seemed to him a dark 
and pitiable mystery; and he looked from the coins in 
his hand to the dead woman, and back again to the 
coins, shaking his head over the riddle of man’s life. 
Henry V. of England, dying at Vincennes just after 
he had conquered France, and this poor jade cut off 
by a cold draught in a great man’s doorway, before she 
had time to spend her couple of whites — it seemed a 
cruel way to carry on the world. Two whites would 
have taken such a little while to squander ; and yet it 
would have been one more good taste in the mouth, 
one more smack of the lips, before the devil got the 
soul, and the body was left to birds and vermin. He 
would like to use all his tallow before the light was 
blown out and the lantern broken. 

While these thoughts were passing through his mind, 
he was feeling, half mechanically, for his purse. Sud- 
denly his heart stopped beating ; a feeling of cold 
scales passed up the back of his legs, and a cold blow 
seemed to fall upon his scalp. He stood petrified for 
a moment ; then he felt again with one feverish move- 
ment ; and then his loss burst upon him, and he was 
covered at once with perspiration. To spendthrifts 
money is so living and actual — it is such a thin veil 
between them and their pleasures ! There is only one 


254 


A /FABIAN- mCHTk 


limit to their fortune — that of time ; and a spendthrift 
with only a few crowns is the Emperor of Rome until 
they are spent. For such a person to lose his money 
is to suffer the most shocking reverse, and fall from 
heaven to hell, from all'to nothing, in a breath. And 
all the more if he has put his head in the halter for it ; 
if he may be hanged to-morrow for that same purse, 
so dearly earned, so foolishly departed ! Villon stood 
and cursed ; he threw the two whites into the street ; 
he shook his fist at heaven ; he stamped, and was not 
horrified to find himself trampling the poor cbrpse. 
Then he began rapidly to retrace his steps towards the 
house beside the cemetery. He had forgotten all fear 
of the patrol, which was long gone by at any rate, and 
had no idea but that of his lost purse. It was in vain 
that he looked right and left upon the snow : nothing 
was to be seen. He had not dropped it in the streets. 
Had it fallen in the house ? He would have liked 
dearly to go in and see ; but the idea of the grisly 
occupant unmanned him. And he saw besides, as he 
drew near, that their efforts to put out the fire had 
been unsuccessful ; on the contrary, it had broken into 
a blaze, and a changeful light played in the chinks of 
door and window, and revived his terror for the author- 
ities and Paris gibbet. 

He returned to the hotel with the porch, and groped 
about upon the snow for the money he had thrown 
away in his childish passion. But he could only find 
one white ; the other had probably struck sideways 
and sunk deeply in. With a single white in his pocket, 
all his projects for a rousing night in some wild tavern 
vanished utterly away. And it was not only pleasure 
that fled laughing from his grasp ; positive discomfort, 
positive pain, attacked him as he stood ruefully before 
the porch. His perspiration had dried upon him ; and 
although the wind had now fallen, a binding frost 
was setting in stronger with every hour, and he felt 
benumbed and sick at heart. What was to be done ? 
Late as was the hour, improbable as was success, he 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. £55 

would try the house of his adopted father, the chaplain 
of St. Benoit. 

He ran there all the way, and knocked timidly. 
There was no answer. He knocked again and again, 
taking heart with every stroke ; and at last steps were 
heard approaching from within. A barred wicket fell 
open in the iron-studded door, and emitted a gush of 
yellow light. 

“ Hold up your face to the wicket,” said the chaplain 
from within. 

“ It’s only me,” whimpered Villon. 

“Oh, it’s only you, is it?” returned the chaplain; 
'and he cursed him with foul unpriestly oaths for dis- 
turbing him at such an hour, and bade him be off to 
hell, where he came from. 

“ My hands are blue to the wrist,” pleaded Villon; 
“my feet are dead and full'of twinges; my nose aches 
with the sharp air; the cold lies at my heart. I may 
be dead before morning. Only this once, father, and 
before God, I will never ask again! ” 

“ You should have come earlier,” said the ecclesi- 
astic coolly. “ Young men require a lesson now and 
then.” He shut the wicket and retired deliberately 
into the interior of the house. 

Villon was beside himself; he beat upon the door 
with his hands and feet, and shouted hoarsely after the 
chaplain. 

“ Wormy old fox ! ” he cried. “ If I had my hand 
under your twist, I would send you flying headlong 
into the bottomless pit.” 

A door shut in the interior, faintly audible to the 
poet down long passages. He passed his hand over 
his mouth with an oath. And then the humor of the 
situation struck him, and he laughed and looked lightly 
up to heaven, where the stars seemed to be winking 
over his discomfiture. 

What was to be done ? It looked very like a night 
in the frosty streets. The idea of the dead woman 
popped into his imagination, and gave him a hearty 


N’El'F ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


256 

fright; what had happened to her in the early night 
might very well happen to him before morning. And 
he so young! and with such immense possibilities of 
disorderly amusement before him! He felt quite pa- 
thetic over the notion of his own fate, as if it had been 
some one else’s, and made a little imaginative vignette 
of the scene in the morning when they should find his 
body. 

He passed all his chances under review, turning the 
white between his thumb and forefinger. Unfortu- 
nately he was on bad terms with some old friends who 
would once have taken pity on him in such a plight. 
He had lampooned them inverses; he had beaten and ' 
cheated them; and yet now, when he was in so close a 
pinch, he thought there was at least one who might 
perhaps relent. It was a chance. It was worth trying 
at least, and he would go and see. 

On the way, two little accidents happened to him 
which colored his musings in a very different manner. 
For, first, he fell in with the track of a patrol, and 
walked in it for some hundred yards, although it lay 
out of his direction. And this spirited him up; at least 
he had confused his trail; for he was still possessed 
with the idea of people tracking him all about Paris 
over the snow, and collaring him next morning before 
he was awake. The other matter affected him quite 
differently. He passed a street corner, where, not so 
long before, a woman and her child had been devoured 
by wolves. This was just the kind of weather, he 
reflected, when wolves might take it into their heads 
to enter Paris again; and a lone man in these deserted 
streets would run the chance of something worse than 
a mere scare. He stopped and looked upon the place 
with an unpleasant interest — it was a centre where sev- 
eral lanes intersected each other; and he looked down 
them all, one after another, and held his breath to 
listen, lest he should detect some galloping black 
things on the snow or hear the sound of howling be- 
tween him and the river. He remembered his mother 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


257 


telling him the story and pointing out the spot, while 
he was yet a child. His mother ! If he only knew 
where she lived, he might make sure at least of shelter. 
He determined he would inquire upon the morrow; 
nay, he would go and see her too, poor old girl ! So 
thinking, he arrived at his destination — his last hope 
for the night. 

The house was quite dark, like its neighbors; and 
yet after a few taps, he heard a movement overhead, a 
door opening, and a cautious voice asking who was 
there. The poet named himself in a loud whisper, 
and waited, not without some trepidation, the result. 
Nor had he to wait long. A window was suddenly 
opened, and a pailful of slops splashed down upon the 
doorstep. Villon had not been unprepared for some- 
thing of the sort, and had put himself as much in shel- 
ter as the nature of the porch admitted; but for all 
that, he was deplorably drenched below the waist. His 
hose began to freeze almost at once. Death from cold 
and exposure stared him in the face; he remembered 
he was of phthisical tendency, and began cougliing ten- 
tatively. But the gravity of the danger steadied his 
nerves. He stopped a few hundred yards from the 
door where he had been so rudely used, and reflected 
with his finger to his nose. He could only see one way 
of getting a lodging, and that was to take it. He had 
noticed a house not far away, which looked as if it 
might be easily broken into, and thither he betook him- 
self promptly, entertaining himself on the way with the 
idea of a room still hot, with a table still loaded with 
the remains of supper, where he might pass the rest of 
the black hours and whence he should issue, on the 
morrow, with an armful of valuable plate. He even 
considered on what viands and what wines he should 
prefer; and as he was calling the roll of his favorite 
dainties, roast fish presented itself to his mind with an 
odd mixture of amusement and horror. 

“ I shall never finish that ballade,” he thought to 
himself ; and then, v/ith another shudder at the recol- 


Ar£tv ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


258 

lection, “ Oh, damn his fat head ! ” he repeated fer- 
vently, and spat upon the snow. 

The house in question looked dark at first sight ; but 
as Villon made a preliminary inspection in search 
of the handiest point of attack, a little twinkle of 
light caught his eye from behind a curtained 
window. 

“ The devil ! ” he thought. ‘‘ People awake ! Some 
student or some saint, confound the crew ! Can’t they 
get drunk and lie in bed snoring like their neighbors ! 
What’s the good of curfew, and poor devils of bell- 
ringers jumping at a rope’s end in bell-towers ? What’s 
the use of day, if people sit up all night ? The gripes 
to them ! ” He grinned as he saw where his logic was 
leading him. “ Every man to his business, after all,” 
added he, “ and if they’re awake, by the Lord, I may 
come by a supper honestly for once, and cheat the 
devil.” • 

He went boldly to the door and knocked with an 
assured hand. On both previous occasions, he had 
knocked timidly and with some dread of attracting 
notice ; but now when he had just discarded the 
tliDught of a burglarious entry, knocking at a door 
seemed a mighty simple and innocent proceeding. 
The sound of his blows echoed through the house with 
thin, phantasmal reverberations, as though it were quite 
empty ; but 'these had scarcely died away before a 
measured tread drew near, a couple of bolts were with- 
drawn, and one wing was opened broadly, as though 
no guile or fear of guile were known to those within. 
A tall figure of a man, muscular and spare, but a little 
bent confronted Villon. The head was massive in 
bulk, but finely sculptured ; the nose blunt at the bot- 
tom, but refining upward to where it joined a pair of 
strong and honest eyebrows; the mouth and eyes sur- 
rounded with delicate markings, and the whole face 
based upon a thick white beard, boldly and squarely 
trimmed. Seen as it was by the light of a flickering 
hand-lamp, it looked perhaps nobler than it had a right 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 


259 


to do ; but it was a fine face, honorable rather than 
intelligent, strong, simple, and righteous. 

“You knock late, sir,” said the old man in resonant, 
courteous tones. 

Villon cringed, and brought up many servile words 
of apology ; at a crisis of this sort, the beggar was 
uppermost in him, and the man of genius hid his head 
with confusion. 

“ You are cold,” repeated the old man, “ and hun- 
gry ? Well, step in.” 'And he ordered him into the 
house with a noble enough gesture. 

“Some great seigneur,” thought Villon, as his host, 
setting down the lamp on the flagged pavement of the 
entry, shot the bolts once more into their places. 

“ You will pardon me if I go in front,” he said, when 
this was done ; and he preceded the poet upstairs into 
a large apartment, warmed with a pan of charcoal and 
lit by a great lamp hanging from the roof. It was 
very bare of furniture ; only some gold plate on a 
sideboard ; some folios ; and a stand of armor 
between the windows. Some smart tapestry hung 
upon the walls, representing the crucifixion of our 
Lord in one piece, and in another a scene of shepherds 
and shepherdesses by a running stream. Over the 
chimney was a shield of arms. 

“ Will you seat yourself,” said the old man, “ and 
forgive me if I leave you ? I am alone in my house 
to-night, and if you are to eat I must forage for you 
myself.” 

No sooner was his host gone than Villon leaped from 
the chair on which he had just seated himself, and 
began examining the room, with the stealth and passion 
of a cat. He weighed the gold flagons in his hand, 
opened all the folios, and investigated the arms upon 
the shield, and the stuff with which the seats were 
lined. He raised the window curtains, and saw that 
the windows were set with rich stained glass in figures, 
so far as he could see, of martial import. Then he 
stood in the middle of the room, drew a long breath, 


26 o 


jVEIV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


g 


and retaining it with puffed cheeks, looked round and 
round him, turning on his heels, as if to impress every 
feature of the apartment on his memory. 

“ Seven pieces of plate,” he said. “ If there had 
been ten, I would have risked it. A fine house, and a 
fine old master, so help me all the saints ! ” 

And just then, hearing the old man’s tread return- 
ing along the corridor, he stole back to his chair, and 
began humbly toasting his wet legs before'the charcoal 
pan. 

His entertainer had a plate of meat in one hand and 
a jug of wine in the other. He sat down the plate 
upon the table, motioning Villon to draw in his chair, 
and going to the sideboard, brought back two goblets, 
which he filled. 

“ I drink your better fortune,” he said, gravely 
touching Villon’s cup with his own. 

“ To our better acquaintance,” said the poet, growing 
bold. A mere man of the people would have been 
awed by the courtesy of the old seigneur, but Villon 
was hardened in that matter ; he had made mirth for 
great lords before now, and found them as black 
rascals as himself. And so he devoted himself to the 
viands with a ravenous gusto, while the old man, 
leaning backward, watched him with steady, curious 
eyes. 

“ You have blood on your shoulder, my man,” he 
said. 

Montigny must have laid his wet right hand upon 
him as he left the house. He cursed Montigny in his 
heart. 

“ It was none of my shedding,” he stammered. 

“ I had not supposed so,” returned his host quietlv. 
“ A brawl ? ” 

“Well, something of that sort,” Villon admitted with 
a quaver. 

“ Perhaps a fellow murdered ?” 

“ Oh, no, not murdered,” said the poet, more and 
more confused. “Itwas'all fair play — murdered by 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 


261 


accident. I had no hand in it, God strike me dead ! ” 
he added fervently. 

“ One rogue the fewer, I dare say,” observed the 
master of the house. 

“You may dare to say that,” agreed Villon, infinitely 
relieved. “ As big a rogue as there is between here 
and Jerusalem. He turned up his toes like a lam.b. 
But it was a nasty thing to look at. I dare say you’ve 
seen dead men in your time, my lord ? ” he added, 
glancing at the armor. 

“ Many,” said the old man. “ I have followed the 
wars, as you imagine.” 

Villon laid down his knife and fork, which he had 
just taken up again. 

“ Were any of them bald ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh yes, and with hair as white as mine.” 

“ I don’t think I should mind the white so much,” 
said Villon. “ His was red.” And he had a return of 
his shuddering and tendency to laughter, which he 
drowned with a great draught of wine. “I’m a little 
put out when I think of it,” he went on. “ I knew 
him — damn him! And then the cold gives a man 
fancies — or the fancies give a man cold, I don’t know 
which.” 

“ Have you any money ? ” asked the old man. 

“ I have one white,” returned the poet, laughing. 

“ I got it out of a dead jade’s stocking in a porch. 
She was as dead as Caesar, poor wench, and as cold as 
a church, with bits of ribbon sticking in her hair. This 
is a hard world in winter for wolves and wenches and ^ 
poor rogues like me.” 

“I,” said the old man, “am Enguerrand de la 
Feuill^e, seigneur de Brisetout, bailly du Patatrac. 
Who and what may you be ? ” 

Villon rose and made a suitable reverence. “ I am 
called Francis Villon,” he said, “a poor Master of Arts 
of this university. I know some Latin, and a deal 
of vice. I can make chansons, ballades, lais, virelais, 
and roundels, and I am very fond of wine. I was 


262 


N£IF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


born in a garret, and I shall not improbably die upon 
the gallows. I may add, my lord, that from this night 
forward l am your lordship’s very obsequious servant 
to command.” 

“ No servant of mine,” said the knight “ my guest 
for this evening, and no more.” 

“ A very grateful guest,” said Villon politely, and 
he drank in dumb show to his entertainer. 

“ You are shrewd,” began the old man, tapping his 
forehead, “ very shrewd ; you have learning ; you 
are a clerk ; and yet you take a small piece of money 
off a dead woman in the street. Is it not a kind of 
theft ? ” 

“ It is a kind of theft much practised in the wars, 
my lord.” 

“ The wars are the field of honor,” returned the 
old man proudly. “ There a man plays his life upon 
the cast ; he fights in the name of his lord the king, his 
Lord God, and all their lordships the holy saints and 
angels.” 

“ Put it,” said Villon, “ that I were really a thief, 
should I not play my life also, and against heavier 
orlds ? ” 

” For gain but not for honor.” 

“ Gain ? ” repeated Villon with a shrug. “ Gain !.^ 
I’he poor fellow wants supper, and takes it. So does 
the soldier in a campaign. Why, what are all these 
requisitions we hear so much about ? If they are not 
gain to those who take them, they are loss enough to 
the others. The men-at-arms drink by a good fire, 
while the burgher bites his nails to buy them wine and 
wood. I have seen a good many ploughmen swinging 
on trees about the country ; ay, I have seen thirty on 
one elm, and a very poor figure they made; and when I 
asked someone how all these came to be hanged, I was 
told it was because they could not scrape together 
enough crowns to satisfy the men-at-arms.” 

“ These tilings are a necessity of war, which the low- 
born must endure with constancy. It is true that some 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 263 

captains drive overhard; there are spirits in every rank 
not easily moved by pity; and indeed many follow arms 
who arc no better than brigands." 

“You see,” said the poet, “you cannot separate the 
soldier from the brigand; and what is a thief but an 
isolated brigand with circumspect manners ? I steal a 
couple of mutton chops, without so much as disturbing 
people’s sleep; the farmer grumbles a bit, but sups 
none the less wholesomely on what remains. You 
come up blowing gloriously on a trumpet, take away the 
whole sheep, and beat the farmer pitifully into the 
bargain. I have no trumpet; I am only Tom, Dick, or 
Harry; I am a rogue and a dog, and hanging’s too 
good for me — with all my heart; but just ask the 
farmer which of us he prefers, just find out which of 
us he lies awake to curse on cold nights.” 

“Look at us two,” said his lordship. “I am old, 
strong, and honored. If I were turned from my house 
to-morrow, hundreds would be proud to shelter me. 
Poor people would go out and pass the night in the 
streets with their children, if I merely hinted that I 
wished to be alone. And I find you up, wandering 
homeless, and picking farthings off dead women by the 
wayside! I fear no man and nothing;*! have seen 
you tremble and lose countenance at a word. I wait 
God’s summons contentedly in my own house, or, if it 
please the king to call me out again, upon the field of 
battle. You look for the gallows; a rough, swift death, 
without hope or honor. Is there no difference between 
these two ? ” 

“ As far as to the moon,” Villon acquiesced. “ But 
if I had been born lord of Brisetout, and you had been 
the poor scholar Francis, would the difference have 
been any the less 7 Should not I have been warming 
my knees at this charcoal pan, and would not you 
have been groping for farthings in the snow ? Should 
not I have been the soldier, and you the thief ? ” 

“ A thief ? ” cried the old man. “la thief I If you 
understood your words, you would repent them.” 


264 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


Villon turned out his hands with a gesture of inimit- 
able impudence. “ If your lordship had done me the 
honor to follow my argument ! ” he said. 

“ I do you too much honor in submitting to your 
presence,” said the knight. “ Learn to curb your 
tongue, when you speak with old and honorable men, 
or some one hastier than I may reprove you in a sharper 
fashion.” And he rose and paced the lower end of the 
apartment, struggling with anger and antipathy. Villon 
surreptitiously refilled his cup, and settled himself 
more comfortably in the chair, crossing his knees and 
leaning his head upon one hand and the elbow against 
the back of the chair. He was now replete and warm; 
and he was in nowise frightened for his host, having 
gauged him as justly as was possible between two such 
different characters. The night was far spent, and in 
a very comfortable fashion after all; and he felt mor- 
ally certain of a safe departure on the morrow. 

“ Tell me one thing,” said the old man, pausing in 
his walk. “ Are you really a thief ? ” 

“ I claim the sacred rights of hospitality,” returned 
the poet. “ My lord, I am.” 

“ You are very young,” the knight continued. 

“ I should never have been so’old,” replied Villon, 
showing his fingers, “if I had not helped myself with 
these ten talents. They have been my nursing mothers 
and my nursing fathers.” 

“You may still repent and change.” 

“I repent daily,” said the poet. “There are few 
people more given to repentance than poor Francis. 
As for change, let somebody change my circumstances. 
A man must continue to eat, if it were only that he 
may continue to repent.” 

“ The change must begin in the heart,” returned the 
old man solemnly. 

“ My dear lord,” answered Villon, “ do you really 
fancy that I steal for pleasure ? I hate stealing, like 
any other piece of work or of danger. My teeth chat- 
ter when I see a gallows. But I must eat, I must drin^, 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


265 


I must mix in society of some sort. What the devil ! 
Man is not a solitary animal — Cut Deus faminam 
tradit. Make me king’s- pantler — make me abbot of 
St. Denis; make me bailly of the Patatrac; and then I 
shall be changed indeed. But as long as you leave 
me the poor scholar Francis Villon, without a farthing, 
why, of course, I remain the same.” 

“ The grace of God is all-powerful.” 

' “I should be a heretic to question it,” said Francis. 
“ It has made you lord of Brisetout and bailly of the 
Patatrac; it has given me nothing but the quick wits 
under my hat and these ten toes upon my hands. May 
I help myself to wine ? I thank you respectfully. By 
God’s grace, you have a very superior vintage.” 

The lord of Brisetout walked to and fro with his 
hands behind his back. Perhaps he was not yet quite 
settled in his mind about the parallel between thieves 
and soldiers; perhaps Villon had interested him by 
some cross-thread of sympathy; perhaps his wits were 
simply muddled by so much unfamiliar reasoning; but 
whatever the cause, he somehow yearned to convert 
the young man to a better way of thinking, and could 
not make up his mind to drive him forth again into the 
street. 

“ There is something more than I can understand in 
this,” he said at length. “ Your mouth is full of sub- 
tleties, and the devil has led you very far astray ; but 
the devil is only a very weak spirit before God’s truth, 
and all his subtleties vanish at a word of true honor, like 
darkness at morning. Listen to me once more. I 
learned long ago that a gentleman should live chival- 
rously and lovingly to God, and the king, and his lady; 
and though I have seen many strange things done, I 
have still striven to command my ways upon that rule. 
It is not only written in all noble histories, but in every 
man’s heart, if he will take care to read. You speak 
of food and wine, and I know very well that hunger is 
a difficult trial to endure ; but you do not speak of 
Qther wants; you say nothing of honor, of faith to God 


266 


JV£JF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


and other men, of courtesy, of love without reproach. 
It may be that I am not very wise — and yet I think I 
am — but you seem to me like one who has lost his way 
and made a great error in life. You are. attending to 
the little wants, and you have totally forgotten the 
great and only real ones, like a man who should be 
doctoring toothache on the Judgment Day. For such 
things as honor and love and faith are not only nobler 
than food and drink, but indeed I think we desire them 
more, and suffer more sharply for their absence. I 
speak to you as I think you will most easily understand 
me. Are you not, while careful to fill your belly, dis- 
regarding another appetite in your heart, which spoils 
the pleasure of your life and keeps you continually 
wretched ? ” 

Villon was sensibly nettled under all this sermon- 
izing. “You think I have no sense of honor!” he 
cried. “ I’m poor enough, God knows ! It’s hard to 
see rich people with their gloves, and you blowing in 
your hands. An empty belly is a bitter thing, although 
you speak so lightly of it. If you had had- as many as 
I, perhaps you would change your tune. Any way I’m 
a thief — make the most of that — but I’m not a devil 
from hell, God strike me dead. I would have you to 
know I’ve an honor of my own, as good as yours, 
though I don’t prate about it all day long, as if it was 
a God’s miracle to have any. It seems quite natural 
to me; I keep it in its box till its wanted. Why now, 
look you here, how long have I been in this room with 
you ? Did you not tell me you were alone in the 
house ? Look at your gold plate I You’re strong, if 
you like, but you’re old and unarmed, and I have 
my knife. What did I want but a jerk of the elbow 
and here would have been you with the cold steel in 
your bowels, and there would have been me, linking in 
the streets, with an armful of golden cups I Did you 
suppose I hadn’t wit enough to see that ? And I scorned 
the action. There are your damned goblets, as safe as 
in a church; there are you, with your heart ticking qs 


A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT. 


267 


good as new ; and here am I, ready to go out again as 
poor as I came in, with my one white that you threw 
in my teeth ! And you think I have no sense of honor 
— God strike me dead ! ” 

The old man stretched out his right arm. “ I will 
tell you what you are,” he said. “ You are a rogue, 
my man, an impudent and black-hearted rogue and 
vagabond. I have passed an hour with you. Oh ! 
believe me, I feel myself disgraced ! And you have 
eaten and drunk at my table. But now I am sick at 
your presence; the day has come, and the night-bird 
should be off to his roost. Will you go before, or 
after ? ” 

“ Which you please,” returned the poet, rising. “ I 
believe you to be strictly honorable.” He thoughtfully 
emptied his cup. “ I wish I could add you were intelli- 
gent,” he went on, knocking on his head with his 
knuckles. “ Age ! age ! the brains stiff and rheu- 
matic.” 

The old man preceded him from a point of self- 
respect; Villon followed, whistling, with his thumbs in 
his girdle. 

“ God pity you,” said the lord of Brisetout at the 
door. 

“ Good-bye, papa,” returned Villon with a yawn. 
“ Many thanks for the cold mutton.” 

' The door closed behind him. The dawn was break- 
ing over the white roofs. A chill, uncomfortable morn- 
ing ushered in the day. Villon stood and heartily 
stretched himself in the middle of the road. 

“ A very dull old gentleman,” he thought. “ I wonder 
what his goblets may be worth.” 



» 






I 






h 





» t 



THE SIRE DE MAL&TROITS DOOR. 


D enis DE BEAULIEU was not yet two-and- 
twenty, but he counted himself a grown man, and 
a very accomplished cavalier into the bargain. Lads 
were early formed in that rough, warfaring epoch ; and 
when one has been in a pitched battle and a dozen 
raids, has killed one’s man in an honorable fashion, and 
knows a thing or two of strategy and mankind, a cer- 
tain swagger in the gait is surely to be pardoned. He 
had put up his horse with due care, and supped with 
due deliberation ; and then, in a very agreeable frame 
of mind, went out to pay a visit in the gray of the 
evening. It was not a very wise proceeding on the 
young man’s part. He would have done better to 
remain beside the fire or go decently to bed. For the 
town was full of the troops of Burgundy and England 
under a mixed command ; and though Denis was there 
on safe-conduct, his safe-conduct was like to serve him 
little on a chance encounter. 

It was September, 1429 ; the weather had fallen 
sharp ; a flighty piping wind, laden with showers, beat 
about the township ; and the dead leaves ran riot along 
the streets. Here and there a window was already 
lighted up ; and the noise of fnen-at-arms making 
merry over supper within, came forth in fits and was 
swallowed up and carried away by the wind. The 
night fell swiftly ; the flag of England, fluttering on 
the spire-top, grew ever fainter and fainter against the 
flying clouds — a black speck like a swallow in the 
tumultuous, leaden chaos of the sky. As the night fell 
the wind rose, and began to hoot under archways and 
roar amid the tree-tops in the valley below the town. 
Denis de Beaulieu walked fast and was soon knock- 
271 


272 


JVStV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ing at his friend’s door ; but though he promised him- 
self to stay only a little while and make an early return, 
his welcome was so pleasant, and he found so much to 
delay him, that it was already long past midnight 
before he said good-bye upon the threshold. The 
wind had fallen again in the meanwhile ; the night was 
as black as the grave ; not a star, nor a glimmer of 
moonshine, slipped through the canopy of cloud. 
Denis was ill-acquainted with the intricate lanes of 
Chateau Landon ; even by daylight he had found some 
trouble in picking his way ; and in this absolute dark- 
ness he soon lost it altogether. He was certain of one 
thing only — to keep mounting the hill ; for his friend’s 
house lay at the lower end, or tail, of Chateau Landon, 
while the inn was up at the head, under the great 
church spire. With this clue to go upon he stumbled 
and groped forward, now breathing more freely in open 
places where there was a good slice of sky overhead, 
now feeling along the wall in stifling closes. It is an 
eerie and mysterious position to be thus submerged in 
opaque blackness in an almost unknown town. The 
silence is terrifying in its possibilities. The touch of 
cold window bars to the exploring hand startles the 
man like the touch of a toad ; the inequalities of the 
pavement shake his heart into his mouth ; a piece of 
denser darkness threatens an ambuscade or a chasm 
in the pathway ; and where the air is brighter, the 
houses put on strange and bewildering appearances, as 
if to lead him farth^ from his way. For Denis, who 
had to regain his inn without attracting notice, there 
was real danger as well as mere discomfort in the walk ; 
and he went warily and boldly at once, and at every 
corner paused to make an observation. 

He had been for some time threading a lane so nar- 
row that he could touch a wall with either hand when 
it began to open out and go sharply downward. Plainly 
this lay no longer in the direction of his inn ; but the 
hope of a little more light tempted him forward to 
reconnoitre. The lane ended in a terrace with a barti- 


THE SIRE DE MAL&TROIT'S DOOR. 273 


2an wall, which gave an outlook between high houses, 
as out of an embrasure, into the vahey lying dark and 
formless several hundred feet below. Denis looked 
down, and could discern a few tree-tops waving and a 
single speck of brightness where the river ran across a 
weir. The weather was clearing up, and the sky had 
lightened, so as to show the outline of the heavier 
clouds and the dark margin of the hills. By the 
uncertain glimmer, the house on his left hand should 
be a*place of some pretensions ; it was surmounted by 
several pinnacles and turret-tops ; the round stern of 
a chapel, with a fringe of flying buttresses, projected 
boldly from the main block ; and the door was sheltered 
under a deep porch carved with figures and overhung 
by two long gargoyles. The windows of the chapel 
gleamed through their intricate tracery with a light as 
of many tapers, and threw out the buttresses and the 
peaked roof in a more intense blackness against the 
sky. It was plainly the hotel of some great family of 
the neighborhood ; and as it reminded Denis of a town 
house of his own at Bourges, he stood for some time 
gazing up at it and mentally gauging the skill of the 
architects and the consideration of the two families. 

There seemed to be no issue to the terrace but the 
lane by which he had reached it ; he could only retrace 
his steps, but he had gained some notion of his where- 
abouts, and hoped by this means to hit the main 
thoroughfare and speedily regain the inn. He was 
reckoning without that chapter of accidents which was 
to make this night memorable above all others in his 
career ; for he had not gone back above a hundred 
yards before he saw a light coming to meet him, and 
heard loud voices speaking together in the echoing 
narrows of the lane. It was a party of men-at-arms 
going the night round with torches. Denis assured 
himself that thoy had all been making free with the 
wine-bowl, and were in no mood to be particular about 
safe-conducts or the niceties of chivalrous war. It was 
as like as not that they would kill him like a dog and 


274 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


leave him where he fell. The situation was inspiriting 
but nervous. Their own torches would conceal him 
from sight, he reflected ; and he hoped that they would 
drown the noise of his footsteps with their own empty 
voices. If he were but fleet and silent, he might evade 
their notice altogether. 

Unfortunately, as he turned to beat a retreat, his foot 
rolled upon a pebble ; he fell against the wall with an 
ejaculation, and his sword rang loudly on the stones. 
Two or three voices demanded who went there — some 
in French, some in English ; but Denis made no reply, 
and ran the faster down the lane. Once upon the 
terrace, he paused to look back. They still kept call- 
ing after him, and just then began to double the pace 
in pursuit, with a considerable clank of armor, and 
great tossing of the torchlight to and fro in the narrow 
jaws of the passage. 

Denis cast a look around and darted into the porch. 
There he might escape observation, or — if that were 
too much to expect — was in a capital posture whether 
for parley or defence. So thinking, he drew his sword 
and tried to set his back against the door. To his sur- 
prise, it yielded behind his weight ; and though he 
turned in a moment, continued to swing back on oiled 
and noiseless hinges, until it stood wide open on a 
black interior. When things fall out opportunely for 
the person concerned, he is not apt to be critical about 
the how or why, his own immediate personal conven- 
ience seeming a sufficient reason for the strangest 
oddities and revolutions in our sublunary things ; and 
so Denis, without a moment’s hesitation, stepped within 
and partly closed the door behind him to conceal his 
place of refuge. Nothing was further from his 
thoughts than to close it altogether ; but for some 
inexplicable reason — perhaps by a spring or a weight 
— the ponderous mass of oak whipped itself out of his 
fingers and clanked to, with a formidable rumble and 
a noise like the falling of an automatic bar. 

The round, at that very moment, debouched upon 


THE SIRE DE MALJ^TROIT'S DOOR. 


275 


the terrace and proceeded to summon him with shouts 
and curses. He heard them ferreting in the dark 
corners ; the stock of a lance even rattled along the 
outer surface of the door behind which he stood ; but 
these gentlemen were in too high a humor to be long 
delayed, and soon made off down a corkscrew pathway 
which had escaped Denis’s observation, and passed out 
of sight and hearing along the battlements of the 
town. 

Denis breathed again. He gave them a few minutes’ 
grace for fear of accidents, and then groped about for 
some means of opening the door and slipping forth 
again. The inner surface was quite smooth, not a 
handle, not a moulding, not a projection of any sort. 
He got his finger-nails round the edges and pulled, but 
the mass was immovable. He shook it, it was as firm 
as a rock. Denis de Beaulieu frowned and gave vent 
to a little noiseless whistle. What ailed the door ? he 
wondered. Why was it open ? How came it to shut so 
easily and so effectually after him ? There w'as some- 
thing obscure and underhand about all this, that was 
little to the young man’s fancy. It looked like a snare; 
and yet who could suppose a snare in such a quiet 
by-street and in a house of so prosperous . and even 
noble an exterior ? And yet — snare or no snare, inten- 
tionally or unintentionally— here he was, prettily 
trapped ; and for the life of him he could see no way 
out of it again. The darkness began to weigh upon 
him. He gave ear ; all was silent without, but within 
and close by he seemed to catch a faint sighing, a faint 
sobbing rustle, a little stealthy creak — as though many 
persons were at his side, holding themselves quite still, 
and governing even their respiration with the extreme 
of slyness. The idea went to his vitals with a shock, 
and he faced about suddenly as if to defend his life. 
Then, for the first time, he became aware of a light 
about the level of his eyes and at some distance in the 
interior of the house— a vertical thread of light, widen- 
ing towards the bottom, such as might escape between 


276 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


two wings of arras over a doorway. To see anything 
was a relief to Denis ; it was like a piece of solid ground 
to a man laboring in a morass ; his mind seized upon 
it with avidity ; and he stood staring at it and trying 
to piece together some logical conception of his sur- 
roundings. Plainly there was a flight of steps ascend- 
ing from his own level to that of this illuminated door- 
way ; and indeed he thought he could make out 
another thread of light, as fine as a needle and as faint as 
phosphorescence, which might very well be reflected 
along the polished wood of a handrail. Since he had 
begun to suspect that he was not alone, his heart had 
continued to beat with smothering violence, and an 
intolerable desire for action of any sort had possessed 
itself of his spirit. He was in deadly peril, he believed. 
What could be more natural than to mount the stair- 
case, lift the curtain, and confront his difficulty at 
once ? At least he would be dealing with something 
tangible ; at least he would be no longer in the dark. 
He stepped slowly forward with outstretched hands, 
until his foot struck the bottom step ; then he rapidly 
scaled the stairs, stood for a moment to compose his 
expression, lifted the arras and went in. 

He found himself in a large apartment of pol- 
ished stone. There were three doors; one on each 
of three sides; all similarly curtained with tapestry. 
The fourth side was occupied by two- large windows 
and a great stone chimney-piece, carved with the arms 
of the Maletroits. Denis recognized the bearings, and 
was gratified to find himself in such good hands. The 
room was strongly illuminated; but it contained little 
furniture except a heavy table and a chair or two, the 
hearth was innocent of fire, and the pavement was but 
sparsely strewn with rushes clearly many days old. 

On a high chair beside the chimney, and directly 
facing Denis as he entered, sat a little old gentleman 
in a fur tippet. He sat with his legs crossed and his 
hands folded, and a cup of spiced wine stood by his 
f lt)ow ori a bracket on the wall. His countenance had 


THE SIRE DE MAE^TRO/T’S DOOR. 277 

a strongly masculine cast; not properly human, but 
such as we see in the bull, the goat, or the domestic 
boar; something equivocal and wheedling, something 
greedy, brutal, and dangerous. The upper lip was 
inordinately full, as though swollen by a blow or a 
toothache; and the smile, the peaked eyebrows, and 
the small, strong eyes were quaintly and almost comic- 
ally evil in expression. Beautiful white hair hung 
straight all round his head, like a saint’s, and fell in a 
single curl upon the tippet. His beard and moustache 
were the pink of venerable sweetness. Age, probably 
in consequence of inordinate precautions, had left no 
mark upon his hands; and the Maletroit hand was 
famous. It would be difficult to imagine anything at 
once so fleshy and so delicate in design; the taper, 
sensual fingers were like those of one of Leonardo’s 
women; the fork of the thumb made a dimpled pro- 
tuberance when closed; the nails were perfectly shaped, 
and of a dead, surprising whiteness. It rendered his 
aspect tenfold more redoubtable, that a man with hands 
like these should keep them devoutly folded like a 
virgin martyr — that a man with so intent and startling 
an expression of face should sit patiently on his seat 
and contemplate people with an unwinking stare, like 
a god, ora god’s statue. His quiescence seemed iron- 
ical and treacherous, it fitted so poorly with his looks. 

Such was Alain, Sire de Maletroit. 

Denis and he looked silently at each other for a 
second or two. 

“ Pray step in,” said the Sire de Maletroit. “ I have 
been expecting you all the evening.” 

He had not risen but he accompanied his words 
with a smile and a slight but courteous inclination of 
the head. Partly from the smile, partly from the 
strange musical murmur with which the Sire prefaced 
his observation, Denis felt a strong shudder of disgust 
go through his marrow. And what with disgust and 
honest confusion of mind, he could scarcely get words 
together in reply. 


278 


NEW JA'AB/AA' NIGHTS. 


“ I fear,” he said, “ that this is a double accident. I 
am not the person you suppose me. It seems you were 
looking for a visit; but for my part, nothing was fur- 
ther from my thoughts — nothing could be more con- 
trary to my wishes — than this intrusion. ” 

“ Well, well,” replied the old gentleman indulgently, 
“ here you are, which is the main point. Seat yourself 
my friend, and put yourself entirely at your ease. We 
shall arrange our little affairs presently.” 

Denis perceived that the matter was still complicated 
with some misconception, and he hastened to continue 
his explanations. 

“Your door . . . .” he began. 

“ About my door ? ” asked the other raising his 
peaked eyebrows. “A little piece of ingenuity.” 
And he shrugged his shoulders. “ A hospitable fancy ! 
By your own account, you were not desirous of mak- 
ing my acquaintance. We old people look for such 
reluctance now and then; when it touches our 
honor, we cast about until we find some way of over- 
coming it. You arrive uninvited, but believe me, 
very welcome. ” 

“ You persist in error, sir, ” said Denis. “ There 
can be no question between you and me. I am a 
stranger in this countryside. My name is Denis, 
damoiseau de Beaulieu. If you see me in your house, 
it is only — 

“ My young friend,” interrupted the other, “ you 
will permit me to have my own ideas on that subject. 
They probably differ from yours at the present 
moment,” he added with a leer, “but time will show 
which of us is in the right.” 

Denis was convinced he had to do with a lunatic. 
He seated himself with a shrug, content to wait the 
upshot; and a pause ensued, during which he thought 
he could distinguish a hurried gabbling as of prayer 
from behind the arras immediately opposite him. 
Sometimes there seemed to be but one person engaged, 
sometimes two; and the vehemence of the voice, low 


THE SIRE DE MALkTROIT’S DOOR. 279 

as it was, seemed to indicate either great haste or an 
agony of spirit. It occurred to him that this piece of 
tapestry covered the entrance to the chapel he had 
noticed from without. 

The old gentleman meanwhile surveyed Denis from 
head to foot with a smile, and from time to time 
emitted little noises like a bird or a mouse, which 
seemed to indicate a high degree of satisfaction. This 
state of matters became rapidly insupportable; and 
Denis, to put an end to it, remarked politely that the 
wind had gone down. 

The old gentleman fell into a fit of silent laughter, 
so prolonged and violent that he became quite red in 
the face. Denis got upon his feet at once, and put on 
his hat with a flourish. 

“ Sir,” he said, “ if you are in your wits, you have 
affronted me grossly. If you are out of them, I flatter 
myself I can find better employment for my brains 
than to talk with lunatics. My conscience is clear; 
you have made a fool of me from the first moment; you 
have refused to hear my explanations: and now there is 
no power under God will make me stay here any longer; 
and if I cannot make my way out in a more decent 
fashion, I will hack your door in pieces with my sword.” 

The Sire de Maletroit raised his right hand and 
wagged it at Denis with the fore and little fingers 
extended. 

“ My dear nephew,” he said, “ sit down.” 

“ Nephew ! ” retorted Denis, “ you lie in your 
throat;” and he snapped his fingers in his face. 

“ Sit down, you rogue ! ” cried the old gentleman, 
in a sudden, harsh voice, like the barking of a dog. 

“ Do you fancy,” he went on, “ that when I had made 
my little contrivance for the door I had stopped short 
with that ? If you prefer to be bound hand and foot 
till your bones ache, rise and try to go away. If you 
choose to remain a free young buck, agreeably con- 
versing with an old gentleman — why, sit where you are 
in peace, and God be with you.” 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


280 


“ Do you mean I am a prisoner ? ” demanded Denis. 

“ I state the facts,” replied the other. “ I would 
rather leave the conclusion to yourself.” 

Denis sat down again. Externally he managed to 
keep pretty calm, but within, he was now boiling with 
anger, now chilled with apprehension. He no longer 
felt convinced that he was dealing with a madman. 
And if the old gentleman was sane, what, in God’s 
name, had he to look for? What absurd or tragical 
adventure had befallen him ? What countenance was 
he to assume ? 

While he was thus unpleasantly reflecting, the arras 
that overhung the chapel door was raised, and a tall 
priest in hi.'; robes came forth and, giving a long, keen 
stare at Denis said something in an undertone to Sire 
de Maletroit. 

“ She is in a better frame of spirit ? ” asked the 
latter. 

“ She is more resigned, messire,” replied the priest. 

“ Now the Lord help her, she is hard to please ! ” 
sneered the old gentleman. “ A likely stripling — not 
ill-born — and of her own choosing, too ? Why, what 
more would the jade have ? ” 

“ The situation is not usual for a young damsel,” 
said the other, “ and somewhat trying to her blushes.” 

“ She should have thought of that before she began 
the dance ? It was none of my choosing, God knows 
that: but since she is in it, by our lady, she shall carry 
it to the end.” And then addressing Denis, “ Monsieur 
de Beaulieu,” he asked, “ may I present you to my 
niece ? She has been waiting your arrival, I may say, 
with even greater impatience than myself.” 

Denis had resigned himself with a good grace — all 
he desired was to know the worst of it as speedily as 
possible; so he rose at once, and bowed in acquies- 
cence. The Sire de Maletroit followed his example 
and limped, with the assistance of the chaplain’s arm, 
towards the chapel-door. The priest pulled aside the 
arras, and all three entered. The building had con- 


THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR. 281 


siderable architectural pretensions. A light groining 
sprang from six stout columns, and hung down in two 
rich pendants from the centre of the vault. The place 
terminated behind the altar in a round end, embossed 
and honeycombed with a superfluity of ornament in 
relief, and pierced by many little windows shaped like 
stars, trefoils, or wheels. These windows were imper- 
fectly glazed, so that the night air circulated freely in 
the chapel. The tapers, of which there must have 
been half a hundred burning on the altar, were 
unmercifully blown about; and the light went through 
many different phases of brilliancy and semi-eclipse. 
On the steps in front of the altar knelt a young girl 
richly attired as a bride. A chill settled over Denis as 
he observed her costume; he fought with desperate 
energy against the conclusion that was being thrust 
upon his mind; it could not — it should not — be as he 
feared. 

“ Blanche,” said the Sire, in his most flute-like tones, 

I have brought a friend to see you, my little girl ; 
turn round and give him your pretty hand. It is 
good to be devout ; but it is necessary to be polite my 
niece.” 

The girl rose to her feet and turned toward the now 
comers. She moved all of a piece ; and shame and 
exhaustion were expressed in every line of her fresh 
young body ; and she held her head down and kept 
her eyes upon the pavement, as she came slowly for- 
ward. In the course of her advance, her eyes fell upon 
Denis de Beaulieu’s feet — feet of which he was justly 
vain, be it remarked, and wore in the most elegant 
accoutrement even while traveling. She paused — 
started, as if his yellow boots had conveyed some 
shocking meaning — and glanced suddenly up into the 
wearer’s countenance. Their eyes met ; shame gave 
place to horror and terror in her looks ; the blood left 
her lips ; with a piercing scream she covered her 
face with her hands and sank upon the chapel 
floor. 


282 


JV£PV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ That is not the man*! ” she cried. “ My uncle, 
that is not the man ! ” 

The Sire de Maletroit chirped agreeably. “Of 
.course not,” he said, “ I expected as much. It was 
so unfortunate you could not remember his name.” 

“ Indeed,” she cried, “ indeed, I have never seen 
this person till this moment — I have never so much as 
set eyes upon him — 1 never wish to see him again. 
Sir,” she said, turning to Denis, “ if you are a gentle- 
man, you will bear me out. Have I ever seen you — 
have you ever seen me — before this accursed hour ? ” 

“ To speak for myself, I have never had that pleas- 
ure,” answered the young man. “This is the first 
time, messire, that I have met with your engaging 
niece.” 

The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I am distressed to hear it,” he said. “ But it is 
never too late to begin. I had little more acquaintance 
with my own late lady ere I married her ; which 
proves,” he added, with a grimace, “ that these 
impromptu marriages may often produce an excellent 
understanding in the long run. As the bridegroom is 
to have a voice in the matter, I will give him two hours 
to make up for lost time before we proceed with the 
ceremony.” And he turned toward the door, followed 
by the clergyman. 

The girl was on her feet in a moment. “ My uncle, 
you cannot be in earnest,” she said. “ I declare before 
God I will stab myself rather than be forced on that 
young man. The heart rises at it ; God forbids such 
marriages; you dishonor your white hair. Oh, my uncle, 
pity me ! There is not a woman in all the world but 
would prefer death to such a nuptial. Is it possible,” 
she added, faltering—' is it possible that you do not 
believe me — that you still think this ” — and she pointed 
at Denis with a tremor of anger and contempt — “ that 
you still think this to be the man ? ” 

“Frankly,” said the old gentleman, pausing on the 
threshold, “ I do. But let me explain to ygu once for 


THE SIRE DE MAltTROJTS DOOR. 283 


all, Blanche de Malelroit, my way of thinking about * 
this affair. When you took it into your head to dishonor 
my family and the name that I have borne, in peace 
and war, for more than three-score years, you forfeited, 
not only the right to question my designs, but that of 
looking me in the face. If your father had been alive, 
he would have spat on you and turned you out of 
doors. His was the hand of iron. You may bless 
your God you have only to deal with the hand of vel- 
vet, mademoiselle. It was my duty to get you married 
without delay. Out of pure good-will, I have tried to 
find your own gallant for you. And I believe I have 
succeeded. But before God and all the holy angels, 
Blanche de Maletroit, if I have not, I care not one 
jack-straw. So let me recommend you to be polite to 
our young friend ; for upon my word, your next groom 
may be less appetizing.” 

And with that he went out, with the chaplain at his 
heels ; and the arras fell behind the pair. 

The girl turned upon Denis with flashing eyes. 

“ And what, sir,” she demanded, “ may be the mean- 
ing of all this ? ” 

“ God knows,” returned Denis, gloomily. “ I am a 
prisoner in this house, which seems full of mad people. 
More I know not ; and nothing do I understand.” 

“And pray how came you here,” she asked. 

He told her as briefly'as he could. “-For the rest,” 
he added, “ perhaps you will follow my example, and 
tell me the answer to all these riddles, and what, in 
God’s name, is like to be the end of it.” 

She stood silent for a little, and he could see her 
lips tremble and her tearless eyes burn with a feverish 
lustre. Then she pressed her forehead in both hands. 

“ Alas, how my head -aches ! ” she said wearily — “ to 
say nothing of my poor heart ! But it is due to you to 
know my story, unmaidenly as it must seem. I am 
called Blanche de Maletroit ; I have been without 
father or mother for — oh! for as long as I can recol- 
lect, and indeed I have been most unhappy all my life. 


284 


NEIV AEAEIAN NIGHTS. 


Three months ago a young captain began to stand 
near me every day in church. I could see that I 
pleased him ; I am much to blame, but I was so glad 
that anyone should love me ; and when he passed 
me a letter, I took it home with me and read it with 
great pleasure. Since that time he has written many. 
He was so anxious to speak with me, poor fellow ! and 
kept asking me to leave the door open some evening 
that we might have two words upon the stair. For he 
knew how much my uncle trusted me.” She gave 
something like a sob at that, and it was a moment 
before she could go on. “ My uncle is a hard man, 
but he is very shrewd,” she said at last. “ He has 
performed many feats in war, and was a great person 
at court, and much trusted by Queen Isabeau in old 
days. How he came to suspect me I cannot tell. ; but 
it is hard to keep anything from his knowledge ; and 
this morning, as we came from mass, he took my hand 
into his, forced it open, and read my little billet, walk- 
ing by my side all the while. When he finished, he 
gave it back to me with great politeness. It con- 
tained another request to have the door left open ; and 
this has been the ruin of us all. My uncle kept me 
strictly in my room until evening, and then ordered me 
to dress myself as you see m.e — a hard mockery for a 
young girl, do you not think so ? I suppose, when he 
could not prevail with me to tell him the young cap- 
tain’s name, he must have laid a trap for him : into 
which, alas ! you have fallen in the anger of God. I 
looked for much confusion ; for how could I tell 
whether he was willing to take me for his wife on these 
sharp terms ? He might have been trifling with me 
from the first ; or I might have made myself too cheap 
in his eyes. But truly I had not looked for such a 
shameful punishment as this ! I could not think that 
God would let a girl be so disgraced before a young 
man. And now I tell you all; and I can scarcely hope 
that you will not despise me. ” 

Denis made her a respectful inclination. 


THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR. 285 

“ Madam,” he said, “ you have honored me by your 
confidence. It remains for me to prove that I am 
not unworthy of the honor. Is Messire de Maletroit 
at hand ? ” 

“ I believe he is writing in the salle without,” she 
answered. 

‘‘ May I lead you thither, madam ? ” asked Denis, 
offering his hand with his most courtly bearing. 

She accepted it ; and the pair passed out of the 
chapel, Blanche in a very drooping and shamefast con- 
dition, but Dennis strutting and ruffling in the con- 
sciousness of a mission, and the boyish certainty of 
accomplishing it with honor. 

The Sire de Maletroit rose to meet them with an 
ironical obeisance. 

“ Sir,” said Denis, with the grandest possible air, “ I 
believe I am to have some say in the matter of this 
marriage ; and let me tell you at once, I will be no 
party to forcing the inclination of this young lady. Had it 
been freely offered to me, I should have been proud 
to accept her hand, for I perceive she is as good as 
she is beautiful ; but as things are, I have now the 
honor, messire, of refusing.” 

Blanche looked at him with gratitude in her eyes ; 
but the old gentleman only smiled and smiled, until his 
smile grew positively sickening to Denis. 

“ I am afraid,” he said, “ Monsieur de Beaulieu, 
that you do not perfectly understand the choice I have 
offered you. Follow me, I beseech you, to this win- 
dow.” And he led the way to one of the large win- 
dows which stood open on the night. “ You observe,” 
he went on, “ there is an iron ring in the upper 
masonry, and reeved through that, a very efficacious 
rope. Now, mark my words: if you should find your 
disinclination to my niece’s person insurmountable, I 
shall have you hanged out of this window before sun- 
rise. I shall only proceed to such an extremity with 
the greatest regret, you may believe me. For it is not 
at all your death that I desire, but my niece’s estab- 


ATE IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


286 

lishment in life. At the same time, it must come to 
that if you prove obstinate. Your family, Monsieur 
de Beaulieu, is very well in its way; but if you sprang 
from Charlemagne, you should not refuse the hand of 
a Maletroit with impunity — not if she had been as com- 
mon as the Paris road — not if she were as hideous as 
the gargoyle over my door. Neither my niece nor you, 
nor my own private feelings, move me at all in this 
matter. The honor of my house has been compro- 
mised ; I believe you to be the guilty person, 
at least you are now in the secret ; and you 
can hardly wonder if I request you to wipe out the 
stain. If you will not, your blood be on your own 
head ! It will be no great satisfaction to me to have 
your interesting relics kicking their heels in the breeze 
below my windows, but half a loaf is better than no 
bread, and if I cannot cure the dishonor, I shall at 
least stop the scandal.” 

There was a pause. 

“ I believe there are other ways of settling such 
imbroglios among gentlemen,” said Denis. “ You wear a 
sword, and I hear you have used it with distinction.” 

The Sire de Maletroit made a signal to the chaplain, 
who crossed the room with long silent strides and raised 
the arras over the third of the three doors. It was only 
a moment before he let it fall again ; but Denis had 
lime to see a dusky passage full of armed men. 

“ When I was a little younger, I should have been 
delighted to honor you, Monsieur de Beaulieu,” said 
Sire Alain ; “ but I am now too old. Faithful retainers 
are the sinews of age, and I must employ the strength I 
have. This is one of the hardest things to swallow as a 
man grows up in years ; but with a little patience, even 
this becomes habitual. You and the lady seem to 
prefer the salle for what remains of your two hours ; 
and as I have no desire to cross your preference, I shall 
resign it to your use with all the pleasure in the world. 
No haste ! ” he added, holding up his hand, as he saw 
a dangerous look come into Denis de Beaulieu’s face. 


THE SIRE DE MALT:TR 01 T'S DOOR. 287 

“ If your mind revolt against hanging, it will be time 
enough two hours hence to throw yourself out of the 
window or upon the pikes of my retainers. Two hours 
of life are always two hours. A great many things 
may turn up in even as little a -while as that. And, 
besides, if I understand her appearance, my niece has 
something to say to you. You will not disfigure your 
last hours by a want of politeness to a lady ? ” 

Denis looked at Blanche, and she made him an 
imploring gesture. 

It is likely that the old gentleman was hugely pleased 
at this symptom of an understanding ; for he smiled on 
both, and added sweetly : “ If you will give me your 
word of honor. Monsieur de Beaulieu, to await my 
return at the end of the two hours before attempting 
anything desperate, I shall withdraw my retainers, and 
let you speak in greater privacy with mademoiselle.” 

Denis again glanced at the girl, who seemed to 
beseech him to agree. 

“ I give you my word of honor,” he said. 

Messire de Maletroit bowed, and proceeded to limp 
about the apartment, clearing his throat the while with 
that odd musical chirp which had already grown so 
irritating in the ears of Denis de Beaulieu. He first 
possessed himself of some papers which lay upon the 
table ; then he went to the mouth of the passage and 
appeared to give an order to the men behind the arras ; 
and lastly he hobbled out through the door by which 
Denis had come in, turning upon the threshold to 
address a last smiling bow to the young couple, and 
followed by the chaplain with a hand-lamp. 

No sooner were they alone than Blanche advanced 
towards Denis with her hands extended. Her face was 
flushed and excited, and her eyes shone with tears. 

“ You shall not die ! ” she cried, “ you shall marry 
me after all.” 

“ You seem to think, madam,” replied Denis, “ that 
I stand much in fear of death.” 

” Oh, no, no,” she said, “ I see you are no poltroon. 


288 


ATE IV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


It is for my own sake — I could not bear to have you 
slain for such a scruple.” 

“ I am afraid,” returned Denis, “ that you underrate 
the difficulty, madam. What you may be too generous 
to refuse, I may be too proud to accept. In a moment 
of noble feeling towards me, you forgot what you per- 
haps owe to others.” 

He had the decency to keep his eyes on the floor as 
he said this, and after he had finished, so as not to 
spy upon her confusion. She stood silent for a moment, 
then walked suddenly away, and falling on her uncle’s 
chair, fairly burst out sobbing. Denis was in the acme 
of embarrassment. He looked round, as if to seek for 
inspiration, and seeing a stool, plumped down upon it 
for something to do. There he sat playing with the 
guard of his rapier, and wishing himself dead a thousand 
times over, and buried in the nastiest kitchen-heap in 
France. His eyes wandered round the apartment, but 
found nothing to arrest them. There were such wide 
spaces between the furniture, the light fell so badly and 
cheerlessly over all, the dark outside air looked in so 
coldly through the windows, that he thought he had 
never seen a church so vast, nor a tomb so melancholy. 
The regular sobs of Blanche de Maletroit measured out 
the time like the ticking of a clock. He read the 
device upon the shield over and over again, until his 
eyes became obscured ; he stared into shadowy corners 
until he imagined they were swarming with horrible 
animals ; and every now and again he awoke with a 
start, to remember that his last two hours were running, 
and death was on the march. 

Oftener and oftener, as the time went on, did his 
glance settle on the girl herself. Her face was bowed 
forward and covered with her hands, and she was 
shaken at intervals by the convulsive hiccup of grief. 
Even thus she was not an unpleasant object to dwell 
upon, so plump and yet so fine, with a warm brown 
skin, and the most beautiful hair, Denis thought, in 
the whole world of womankind. Her hands Avere like 


THE SIRE DE M Alt TKO IT'S DOOR. 289 

her uncle’s : but they were more in place at the end of 
her young arms, and looked infinitely soft and caress- 
ing. He remembered how her blue eyes had shone 
upon him, full of anger, pity, and innocence. And the 
more he dwelt on her perfections, the uglier death 
looked, and the more deeply was he smitten with peni- 
tence at her continued tears. Now he felt that no 
man could have the courage to leave a world which 
contained so beautiful a creature ; and now he would 
have given forty minutes of his last hour to have unsaid 
his cruel speech. 

Suddenly a hoarse and ragged peal of cockcrow 
rose to their ears from the dark valley below the win- 
dows. And this shattering noise in the silence of all 
around was like a light in a dark place, and shook 
them both out of their reflections. 

“ Alas, can I do nothing to help you ?” she said, 
looking up. 

‘‘ Madam,” replied Denis, with a fine irrelevancy, 
“ if I have said anything to wound you, believe me, it 
was for your own sake and not for mine.” 

She thanked him with a tearful look. 

“ I feel your position cruelly,” he went on. “ The 
world has been bitter hard on you. Your uncle is a 
disgrace to mankind. Believe me, madam, there is no 
young gentleman in all France but would be glad of 
my opportunity, to die in doing you a momentary ser- 
vice.” 

“ I know already that you can be very brave and 
generous,” she answered. “What I want to know is 
whether I can serve you — now or afterwarjds,” she 
added, with a quaver. 

“ Most certainly,” he answered with a smile. “ Let 
me sit beside you as if I were a friend, instead of a 
foolish intruder ; try to forget how awkwardly we are 
placed to one another ; make my last moments go 
pleasantly ; and you will do me the chief service pos- 
sible.” 

“ You are very gallant,” she added, with a yet 


2go 


NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


deeper sadness “ very gallant and it 

somehow pains me. But draw nearer, if you please ; 
and if you find anything to say to me, you will at least 
make certain of a very friendly listener. Ah! Monsieur 
de Beaulieu,” she broke forth — “ah! Monsieur de 
Beaulieu, how can I look you in the face ?” And she 
fell to weeping again with a renewed effusion. 

“ Madam,” said Denis, taking her hand in both of 
his, “ reflect on the little time I have before me, and 
the great bitterness into w’hich I am cast by the sight 
of your distress. Spare me, in my last moments, the 
spectacle of what I cannot cure even with the sacrifice 
of my life.” 

“ I am very selfish,” answered Blanche. “ I will be 
braver. Monsieur de Beaulieu, for your sake. But 
think if I can do you no kindness in the future — if 
you have no friends to whom I could carry your 
adieux. Charge me as heavily as you can ; every bur- 
den will lighten, by so little, the invaluable gratitude I 
owe you. Put it in my power to do something more 
for you than weep.” 

“ My mother is married again, and has a young 
family to care for. My brother Guichard will inherit 
my fiefs; and if I am not in error, that will content 
him amply for my death. Life is a little vapor that 
passeth away, as we are told by those in holy orders. 
When a man is in a fair way and sees all life open in 
front of him, he seems to himself to make a very impor- 
tant figure in the world. His horse whinnies to him; 
the trumpets blow and the girls look out of window as 
he rides into town before his company; he receives 
many assurances of trust and regard — sometimes by 
express in a letter — sometimes face to face, with per- 
sons of great consequence falling on his neck. It is 
not wonderful if his head is turned for a time. But 
once he is dead, were he as brave as Hercules or as 
wise as Solomon, he is soon forgotten. It is not ten 
years since my father fell, with many other knights 
around him, in a very fierce encounter, and I do not 


THE SIRE DE MALETROIT S DOOR. 291 

think that any one of them, nor so much as the name 
of the fight, is now remembered. No, no, madam, 
the nearer you come to it, you see that death is a 
dark and dusty corner, where a man gets into his 
tomb and has the door shut after him till the judgment 
day. I have few friends just now, and once I am 
dead I shall have none.” 

“ Ah, Monsieur de Beaulieu !” she exclaimed, “ you 
forget Blanche de Maletroit.” 

“ You have a sweet nature, madam, and you are 
pleased to estimate a little service far beyond its 
worth.” 

“ It is not that,” she answered. “ You mistake me 
if you think I am easily touched by my own concerns. 
I say so, because you are the noblest man I have ever 
met ; because I recognize in you a spirit that would 
have made even a common person famous in the land.” 

“ And yet here I die in a mousetrap — with no more 
noise about it than my own squeaking,” answered he. 

A look of pain crossed her face, and she was silent 
for a little while. Then a light came into her eyes, 
and with a smile she spoke again. 

‘ “ I cannot have my champion think meanly of him- 

self. Anyone who gives his life for another will be 
met in Paradise by all the heralds and angels of the 
Lord God. And you have no such cause to hang 
your head. For .... Pray, do you think me beau- 
tiful } ” she asked, with a deep flush. 

“ Indeed, madam, I do,” he said. 

“ I am glad of that,” she answered heartily. “ Do 
you think there are many men in France who have 
been asked in marriage by a beautiful maiden — with 
her own lip^ — and who have refused her to her face ? 

I know you men would half despise such a triumph ; 
but believe me, we women know more of what is pre- 
cious in love. There is nothing that should set a person 
higlier in his own esteem ; and we women would prize 
iiothiiig more dearly.” 

“You are very good,” he said; “but you cannot 


292 


NEfV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


make me forget that I was asked in pity and not for 
love.” 

“ I am not so sure of that,” she replied, holding 
down her head. “ Hear me to an end. Monsieur de 
Beaulieu. I know how you must despise me ; I feel 
you are right to do so ; I am too poor a creature to 
occupy one thought of your mind, although, alas ! you 
must die for me this morning. But when I asked you 
to marry me, indeed, and indeed, it was because I 
respected and admired you, and loved you with my 
whole soul, from the very moment that you took my 
part against my uncle. If you had seen yourself, and 
how noble you looked, you would pity rather than 
despise me. And now,” she went on, hurriedly check- 
ing him with her hand, “ although I have laid aside all 
reserve and told you so much, remember that I know 
your sentiments towards me already. I would not, 
Ijelieve me, being nobly born, weary you with impor- 
tunities into consent. I too have a pride of my own : 
and I declare before the holy mother of God, if you 
should now go back from your word already given, I 
would no more marry you than I would marry my 
uncle’s groom.” 

Denis smiled a little bitterly. 

“ It is a small love,” he said, “ that shies at a little 
pride.” 

She made no answer, although she probably had her 
own thoughts. 

“ Come hither to the window,” he said with a sigh. 
“ Here is the dawn.” 

And indeed the dawn was already beginning. The 
hollow of the sky was full of essential daylight, color- 
less and clean ; and the valley underneath was flooded 
with a gray reflection. A few thin vapors clung in tlie 
coves of the forest or lay along the winding course of 
the river. The scene disenpged a surprising effect of 
stillness, which was hardly interrupted when the cocks 
began once more to crow among the steadings. Per- 
haps the same fellow who had made so horrid a clangor 


THE SIRE DE MALATRO/T’S DOOR. 


293 


in the darkness not half an hour before, now sent up the 
merriest cheer to greet the coming day. A little wind 
went bustling and eddying among the tree-tops under- 
neath the windows. And still the daylight kept flood- 
ing insensibly out of the east, which was soon to grow 
incandescent and cast up that red-hot cannon-ball, the 
rising sun. 

Denis looked gut over all this with a bit of a shiver. 
He had taken her hand, and retained it in his almost 
unconsciously. 

“ Has the day begun already ? ” she said ; and then, 
illogically enough : “ the night has been so long ! 
Alas ! what shall we say to my uncle when he returns ? ” 

“ What you will,” said Denis, and he pressed her fin- 
gers in his. 

She was silent. 

“ Blanche,” he said, with a swift, uncertain, passion- 
ate utterance, “ you have seen whether I fear death. 
You must know well enough that I would as gladly 
leap out of that window into the empty air as to lay a 
finger on you without your free and full consent. But 
if you care for me at all do not let me lose my life in a 
misapprehension ; for I love you better than the whole 
world ; and though I will die for you blithely, it would 
be like all the joys of Paradise to live on and spend my 
life in your service.” 

As he stopped speaking, a bell began to ring loudly 
in the interior of the house ; and a clatter of armor in 
the corridor showed that the retainers were returning 
to their post, and the two hours were at an end. 

“ After all that you have heard ? ” she whispered, 
leaning towards him with her lips and eyes. 

“ I have heard nothing,” he replied. 

“The captain’s name was Florimond de Champ- 
divers,” she said in his ear. 

“I did not hear it,” he answered, taking her supple 
body in his arms, and covered her wet face with kisses. 

A melodious chirping was audible behind, followed 
by a beautiful chuckle, and the voice of Messire de 
Maletroit wished his new nephew a good morning. 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 



1 


FHOVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 


CHAPTER I. 

M onsieur leon berthelini had a great 

care of his appearance, and sedulously suited 
his deportment to the costume of the hour. He 
affected something Spanish in his air, and something 
of the bandit, with a flavor of Rembrandt at home. 
In person he was decidedly small and inclined to be 
stout ; his face was the picture of good humor ; his 
dark eyes, which were very expressive, told of a kind 
heart, a brisk, merry nature, and the most indefatigable 
spirits. If he had worn the clothes of the period you 
would have set him down for a hitherto undiscovered 
hybrid between the barber, the innkeeper, and the 
affable dispensing chemist. But in the outrageous 
bravery of velvet jacket and flapped hat, with trousers 
that were more accurately described as fleshings, a 
white handkerchief cavalierly knotted at his neck, a 
shock of Olympian curls upon his brow, and his feet 
shod through all weathers in the slenderest of Moliere 
shoes — you had but to look at him and you knew you 
wert in the presence of a Great Creature. When he 
wort an overcoat he scorned to pass the sleeves ; a 
single button held it round his shoulders ; it was 
tossed backwards after the manner of a cloak, and 
carried with the gait and presence of an Almaviva. I 
am of opinion that M. Berthelini was nearing forty. 
But he had a boy’s heart, gloried in his finery, and 
walked through life like a child in a perpetual dramatic 
performance. If he were not Almaviva after all, it 
was not for lack of making believe. And he enjoyed 
the artist’s compensation. If he were not really 
297 


298 


N£W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


Almaviva, he was sometimes just as happy as though 
he were. 

I have seen him, at moments when he has fancied 
himself alone with his Maker, adopt so gay and 
chivalrous a bearing, and represent his own part with 
so much warmth and conscience, that the illusion 
became catching, and I believed implicitly in the Great 
Creature’s pose. 

But, alas ! life cannot be entirely conducted on 
these principles ; man cannot live by Almavivery 
alone ; and the Great Creature, having failed upon 
several theatres, was obliged to step down every even- 
ing from his heights, and sing from half-a-dozen to a 
dozen comic songs, twang a guitar, keep a country 
audience in good humor, and preside finally over the 
mysteries of a tombola. 

Madame Berthelini, who was art and part with him 
in these undignified labors, had perhaps a higher posi- 
tion in the scale of beings, and enjoyed a natural dig- 
nity of her own. But her heart was not any more 
rightly placed, for that would have been impossible; 
and she had acquired a little air of melancholy, attrac- 
tive enough in its way, but not good to see like the 
wholesome, sky-scraping, boyish spirits of her lord. 

He, indeed, swam like a kite on a fair wind, high 
above earthly troubles. Detonations of temper were 
not unfrequent in the zones he traveled; but sulky 
fogs and tearful depressions were there alike unknown. 
A well-delivered blow upon a table, or a noble attitude, 
imitated from M^lingue or Frederic, Relieved his irri- 
tation like a vengeance. Though the heaven had fal- 
len, if he had played his part with propriety, Berthelini 
had been content ! And the man’s atmosphere, if not 
his example, reacted on his wife; for the couple doted 
on each other, and although you would have thought 
they walked in different worlds, yet continued to walk 
hand in hand. 

It chanced one day that Monsieur and Madame 
jBerthelini descended with two boxes and a guitar in a 


PROVIDEJ^CE AMD THE GUITAR. 299 

fat case at the station of the little town of Castel-le- 
Gachis, and the omnibus carried them with their 
effects to the Hotel of the Black Head. This was a 
dismal, conventual building in a narrow street, capable 
of standing siege when once the gates were shut, and 
smelling strangely in the interior of straw and choco- 
late and old feminine apparel. Berthelini paused 
upon the threshold with a painful premonition. In 
some former state, it seemed to him, he had visited a 
hostelry that smelt not otherwise, and been ill received. 

The landlord, a tragic person in a large felt hat, 
rose from a business table under the key-rack, and 
came forward, removing his hat with both hands as he 
did so. 

“ Sir, I salute you. May I inquire what is your 
charge for artists?” inquired Berthelini, with a cour- 
tesy at once splendid and insinuating. 

“ For artists ? ” said the landlord. His countenance 
fell and the smile of welcome disappeared. “ Oh, 
artists!” he added, brutally; ‘‘four francs a day.” 
And he turned his back upon these inconsiderable 
customers. 

A commercial traveler is received, he also, upon a 
reduction — yet is he welcome, yet can he command 
the fatted calf; but an artist, had he the manners of 
an Almaviva, were he dressed like Solomon in all his 
glory, is received like a dog and served like a timid 
lady traveling alone. 

Accustomed as he was to the rubs of his profession, 
Berthelini was unpleasantly affected by the landlord’s 
manner. 

“ Elvira,” said he to his wife, “mark my words; 
Castel-le-Gachis is a tragic folly.” 

“ Wait till we see what we take,” replied Elvira. 

“ We shall take nothing,” returned Berthelini; “we 
shall feed upon insults. I have an eye, Elvira; I have 
a spirit of divination; and this place is accursed. The 
landlord has been discourteous, the Commissary will 
be brutal, the audience will be sordid and uproarious, 


300 


NE W ARABIAN' NIGHTS. 


and you will take a cold upon your throat. We have 
been besotted enough to come; the die is cast — it will 
be a second Sedan.” 

Sedan was a town hateful to the Berthelinis, not 
only from patriotism (for they were French, and 
answered after the flesh to the somewhat homely name 
of Duval), but because it had been the scene of their 
most sad reverses. In that place they had lain three 
weeks in pawn for their hotel bill, and had it not been 
for a surprising stroke of fortune they might have been 
lying there in pawn until this day. To mention the 
name of Sedan was for the Berthelinis to dip the brush 
in earthquake and eclipse. Count Almaviva slouched 
his hat with a gesture expressive of despair, and even 
Elvira felt as if ill-fortune had been personally invoked. 

“ Let us ask for breakfast,” said she, with a woman’s 
tact. 

The Commissary of Police of Castel-le-Gachis was 
a large red Commissary, pimpled, and subject to a 
strong cutaneous transpiration. I have repeated the 
name of hjs office because he was so very much more 
a Commissary than a man. The spirit of his dignity 
had entered into him. He carried his corporation as 
if it were something official. Whenever he insulted 
a common citizen it seemed to him as if he were 
adroitly flattering the Government by a side wind; in 
default of dignity he was brutal from an over-weening 
sense of duty. His office was a den, whence passers- 
by could hear rude accents laying down, not the law, 
but the good pleasure of the Commissary. 

Six sev'eral times in the course of the day did M. 
Berthelini hurry thither in quest of the requisite per- 
mission for his evening’s entertainment; six several 
times he found the official was abroad. Leon Berthe- 
lini began to grow quite a familiar figure in the streets 
of Castel-le-Gachis; he became a local celebrity, and 
was pointed out as “ the man who was looking for the 
Commissary.” Idle children attached themselves to 
his footsteps, and trotted after him back and forward 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. $01 

between the hotel and the office. Leon might try as 
he liked; he might roll cigarettes, he might straddle, 
he might cock his hat at a dozen different jaunty 
inclinations — the part of Almaviva was, under the 
circumstances, difficult to play. 

As he passed the market-place upon the seventh 
excursion the Commissary was pointed out to him, 
where he stood, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his 
hands behind his back, to superintend the sale and 
measurement of butter. Berthelini threaded his way 
through the market stalls and baskets, and accosted the 
dignitary with a bow which was a triumph of the 
histrionic art. 

“ I have the honor,’' he asked, “ of meeting M. le 
Commissaire ? ” 

The Commissary was affected by the nobility of his 
address. He excelled Leon in the depth if not in the 
airy grace of his salutation. 

‘‘ The honor,” said he, “ is mine ! ” 

“I am,” continued ^the strolling-player, “lam, sir, 
an artist, and I have permitted mpelf to interrupt you 
on an affair of business. To-night I give a trifling 
musical entertainment at the caf4 of the Triumphs of 
the Plough — permit me to offer you this little pro- 
gramme — and I have come to ask you for the necessary 
authorization.” 

At the word “ artist,” the Commissary had replaced 
his hat with the air of a person who, having conde- 
scended too far, should suddenly remember the duties 
of his rank. 

“ Go, go,” said he, “ I am busy— I am measuring 
butter.” 

“Heathen Jew!” thought Leon. “ Permit me, 
sir,” he resumed, aloud. “ I have gone six times 
already ” 

“Put up your bills if you^ choose,” interrupted 
the Commissary^ “ In an hour or so I will exam- 
ine your papers at the office. But now go ; I am 
busy.” 


302 


J\rElV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


“ Measuring butter ? ” thought Berthelini. “ Oh, 
France, and it is for this that we made ’93 ! ’/ 

The preparations were soon made; the bills posted, 
programmes laid on the dinner-table of every hotel in 
the town, and a stage erected at one end of the Cafe 
of the Triumphs of the Plough; but when Leon 
returned to the office, the Commissary was once more 
abroad. 

“ He is like Madame Benoiton,” thought Leon, 
“ Fichu Commissaire ! ” 

And just then he met the man face to face. 

“ Here, sir,” said he, “ are my papers. Will you be 
pleased to verify ?” 

But the Commissary was now intent upon dinner. 

“ No use,” he replied, “no use; I am busy; I am 
quite satisfied. Give your entertainment.” 

And he hurried on. 

“ Fichu Commissaire ! ” thought Leon. 


CHAPTER II. 


The audience was pretty large; and the proprietor 
of the cafe made a good thing of it in beer. But the 
Berthelinis exerted themselves in vain. 

Leon was radiant in velveteen; he had a rakish way 
of smoking a cigarette between his songs that was 
worth. money in itself; he underlined his comic points, 
so that the dullest numskull in Castel-le-Gachis had a 
notion when to laugh; and he handled his guitar in a 
manner worthy of himself. Indeed his play with that 
instrument was as good as a whole romantic drama; it 
was so dashing, so florid, and so cavalier. 

Elvira, on the other hand, sang her patriotic and 
romantic songs with more than usual expression; her 
voice had. charm and plangency; and as Leon looked 
at her, in her low-bodied maroon dress, with her arms 
bare to the shoulder, and a red flower set provocatively 
in her corset, he repeated to himself for the many hun- 
dredth time that she was one of the loveliest creatures 
in the world of women. 

Alas ! when she went round with the tambourine, 
the golden youth of Castel-le-Gachis turned from her 
coldly. Here and there a single halfpenny was forth' 
coming ; the net result of a collection never exceeded 
half a franc ; and the Maire himself, after seven differ- 
ent applications, had contributed exactly twopence, A 
certain chill began to settle upon the artists themselves ; 
it seemed as if they were singing to slugs; Apollo him- 
self might have lost heart with such an audience. The 
Berthelinis struggled against the impression ; they put 
their back into their work, they sang loud and louder, 
the guitar twanged like a living thing; and at last Leon 
arose in his might, and burst with inimitable conviction 
into his great song, a des honnetes gens partout!" 
Never had he given more proof of his artistic mastery; 

303 


304 NE IV AHABIAN NIGHTS. 

it was his intimate, indefeasible conviction that Castel- 
le-Gachis formed an exception to the law he was now 
lyrically proclaiming, and was peopled exclusively by 
thieves and bullies; and yet, as I say, he flung it down 
like a challenge, he trolled it forth like an article of 
faith ; and his face so beamed the while that you would 
have thought he must make converts of the benches. 

He was at the to’p of his register, with his head 
thrown back and his mouth open, when the door was 
thrown violently open, and a pair of new comers 
marched noisily into the cafe. *It was the Commissary, 
followed by the Garde Champetre. 

The undaunted Berthelini still continued to proclaim, 
“ Y a des honnetes gens partout ! ” But now the sen- 
timent produced an audible titter among the audience. 
Berthelini wondered why ; he did not know the ante- 
cedents of the Garde Champetre ; he had never heard 
of a little story about postage stamps. But the public 
knew all about the postage stamps, and enjoyed the 
coincidence hugely. 

The Commissary planted himself upon a vacant chair 
with somewhat the air of Cromwell visiting the Rump, 
and spoke in occasional whispers to the Garde Cham- 
petre, who remained respectfully standing at his back. 
The eyes of both were directed upon Berthelini, who 
persisted in his statement. 

“ Y a des honnetes gens partout,” he was just chant- 
' ing for the twentieth time; when up got the Commissary 
upon his feet and waved brutally to the singer with his 
cane. 

“ Is it me you want ? ” inquired Leon, stopping in 
his song. 

‘ It is you,” replied the potentate. 

“ Fichu Commissaire ! ” thought Leon, and he 
descended from the stage and made his way to the 
functionary. 

“ How does it happen, sir,” said the Commissary, 
swelling in person, “ that I find you mountebanking 
in a public cafe without my permission ? ” 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 305 


“ Without ? ” cried the indignant Leon, “ Permit 
me to remind you ” 

“ Come, come, sir ! ” said the Commissary, “ I desire 
no explanations.” 

“ I care nothing about what you desire,” returned 
the singer. “ I choose to give them, and I will not be 
gagged. I am an artist, sir, a distinction that you 
cannot comprehend. I received your permission and 
stand here upon the strength of it ; interfere with me 
who dare,” 

“You have not got my signature, I tell you,” cried 
the Commissary. “ Show me my signature ! Where 
is my signature ? ” 

That was just the question; where was his signature ? 
Leon recognized that he was in a hole ; but his spirit 
rose with the occasion, and he blustered nobly, tossing 
back his curls. The Commissary played up to him in 
the character of tyrant ; and as the one leaned farther 
forward, the other leaned farther back — majesty con- 
fronting fury. The audience had transferred their 
attention to this new performance, and listened with 
that silent gravity common to all Frenchmen in the 
neighborhood of the police. Elvira had sat down, she 
was used to these distractions, and it was rather melan- 
choly than fear that now oppressed her. 

“Another word,” cried the Commissary, “and I 
arrest you.” 

“ Arrest me ! ” shouted Leon, “ I defy you ! ” 

“ I am the Commissary of Police,” said the official. 

Leon commanded his feelings, and replied, with 
great delicacy of innuendo — 

“ So it would appear.” 

The point was too refined for Castel-le-Gachis ; it 
did not raise a smile ; and as for the Commissary, he 
simply bade the singer follow him to his office, and 
directed his proud footsteps towards the door. There 
was nothing for it but to obey. Leon did so with a 
proper pantomime of indifference, but it was a leek to 
eat, and there was no denying it. 


3o6 


JV£PV A HAS IAN NIGHTS. 


The Maire had slipped out and was already waiting 
at the Commissary’s door. Now the Maire, in France, 
is the refuge of the oppressed. He stands between his 
people and the boisterous rigors of the Police. He can 
sometimes understand what is said to him ; he is not 
always puffed up beyond measure by his dignity. ’Tis 
a thing worth the knowledge of travelers. When all 
seems over, and a man has made up his mind to injus- 
tice, he has still, like the heroes of romance, a little 
bugle at his belt whereon to blow ; and the Maire, a 
comfortable dcus ex 7nachina, may still descend to 
deliver him from the minions of the law. The Maire 
of Castel-le-Gachis, although inaccessible to the charms 
of music as retailed by the Berthelinis, had no hesita- 
tion whatever as to the rights of the matter. He 
instantly fell foul of the Commissary in very high 
terms, and the Commissary, pricked by this humilia- 
tion, accepted battle on the point of fact. The argu- 
ment lasted some little while with varying success, 
until at length victory inclined so plainly to the Com- 
missary’s side that the Maire was fain to re-assert him- 
self by an exercise of authority. He had been out- 
argued, but he was still the Maire. And so, turning 
from his interlocutor, he briefly but kindly recom- 
mended Leon to go back instanter to his concert. 

“ It is already growing late,” he added. 

Leon did not wait to be told twice. He returned to 
the Caf6 of the Triumphs of the Plough Avith all expe- 
dition. Alas ! the audience had melted away during 
his absence; Elvira was sitting in a very disconsolate 
attitude on the guitar-box; she had watched the com- 
pany dispersing by twos and threes, and the prolonged 
spectacle had somewhat overwhelmed her spirits. 
Each man, she reflected, retired with a certain propor- 
tion of her earnings in his pockets, and she saAV 
to-night’s board and to-morrow’s railway expenses, and 
finally even to-morrow’s dinner, walk one after another 
out of the cafe door and disappear into the night. 

“ What was it ? ” she asked, languidly. 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 


307 


But Leon did not answer. He was looking round 
him on the scene of defeat. Scarce a score of 
listeners remained, and these of the least promising 
sort. The minute hand of the clock was already 
climbing upward towards eleven. 

“ It’s a lost battle,” said he, and then taking up the 
money-box, he turned it out. “ Three francs seventy- 
live ! ” he cried, “as against four of board and six of 
railway fares; and no time for the tombola ! Elvira, 
this is Waterloo.” And he sat down and passed both 
hands desperately among his curls. “ O Fichu Com- 
missaire ! ” he cried, “ Fichu Commissaire ! ” 

“ Let us get the things together and be off,” returned 
Elvira. “ We might try another song, but there is not 
six halfpence in the room.” 

“ Six halfpence ? ” cried Leon, “ six hundred thou- 
sand devils ! There is not a human creature in the 
town — nothing but pigs and dogs and commissaries ! 
Pray heaven, we get safe to bed.” 

“ Don’t imagine things ! ” exclaimed Elvira, with a 
shudder. 

And with that they set to work on their prepara- 
tions. The tobacco-jar, the cigarette-holder, the three 
papers of shirt-studs, which were to have been the 
prizes of the tombola had the tombola come off, were 
made into a bundle with the music; the guitar was 
stowed into the fat guitar-case; and Elvira having 
thrown a thin shawl about her neck and shoulders, the 
pair issued from the cafe and set off for the Black 
Head. 

As they crossed the market-place the church bell 
rang out eleven. It was a dark, mild night, and there 
was no one in the streets. 

“It is all very fine,” said Leon: “but I have a pre- 
sentiment, The night is not yet done.” 


CHAPTER III. 


The “Black Head” presented not a single chink of 
light upon the street, and the carriage gate was closed. 

“ This is unprecedented,” observed Leon. “ An inn 
closed by five minutes after eleven ! And there were 
several commercial travelers in the cafe up to a late 
hour. Elvira, my heart misgives me. Let us ring the 
bell.” 

The bell had a potent note; and being swung under 
the arch it filled the house from top to bottom with 
surly, clanging reverberations. The sound accentuated 
the conventual appearance of the building; a wintry 
sentiment, a thought of prayer and mortification, took 
hold upon Elvira’s mind; and as for Leon, he seemed 
to be reading the stage directions for a lugubrious 
fifth act. 

“ This is your fault,” said Elvira : “ this is what 
comes of fancying things ! ” 

Again Leon pulled the bell-rope; again the solemn 
tocsin awoke the echoes of the inn; and ere they had 
died away, a light glimmered in the carriage entrance, 
and a powerful voice was heard upraised and tremulous 
with wrath. 

“ What’s all this ? ” cried the tragic host through the 
spars of the gate. “ Hard upon twelve, and you come 
clamoring like Prussians at the door of a respectable 
hotel ? Oh ! ” he cried, “ I know you now ! Common 
singers ! People in trouble with the police ! And you 
present yourselves at midnight like lords and ladies ? 
Be off with you ! ” 

“ You will permit me to remind you,” said L6on, in 
thrilling tones, “ that I am a guest in your house, that 
I am properly inscribed, and that I have deposited 
baggage to the value of four hundred francs,” 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 


309 


‘‘You cannot get in at this hour,” returned the man. 
“ This is no thieves’ tavern, for mohocks and night 
rakes and organ-grinders.” 

“ Brute ! ” cried Elvira, for the organ-grinders 
touched her home. 

“ Then I demand my baggage,” said Leon, with una- 
bated dignity. 

“ I know nothing of your baggage,” replied the 
landlord. 

“You detain my baggage ? You dare to detain my 
baggage ? ” cried the singer. 

“ Who are you ? ” returned the landlord. “ It is 
dark — I cannot recognize you.” 

“Very well, then — you detain my baggage,” con- 
cluded Leon. “ You shall smart for this. I will weary 
out your life with persecutions; I will drag you from 
court to court; if there is justice to be had in France, 
it shall be rendered between you and me. And I will 
make you a by-word — I will put you in a song — a 
scurrilous song — an indecent song — a popular song — 
which the boys shall sing to you in the street, and come 
and howl through these spars at midnight ! ” 

He had gone on raising his voice at every phrase, for 
all the while the landlord was very placidly retiring ; 
and now, when the last glimmer of light had vanished 
from the arch, and the last footstep died away in the 
.interior, L^on turned to his wife with a heroic coun- 
tenance. 

“ Elvira,” said he, “ I have now a duty in life. I 
shall destroy that man as Eugene Sue destroyed the 
concierge. Let us come at once to the Gendarmerie 
and begin our vengeance.” 

He picked up the guitar-case, which had been 
propped against the wall, and they set forth through 
the silent and ill-lighted town with burning hearts. 

The Gendarmerie was concealed beside the telegraph 
office at the bottom of a vast court, which was partly 
laid out in gardens; and here all the shepherds of the 
public lay locked in grateful sleep. It took a deal gf 


310 


JV£PV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


knocking to waken one; and he, when he came at last 
to the door, could find no other remark but that “ it 
was none of his business.” Leon reasoned with him, 
threatened him, besought him; “here,” he said, “was 
Madame Berthelini in evening dress — a delicate woman 
— in an interesting condition ” — the last was thrown in, 

I fancy, for effect; and to all this the man-at-arms 
made the same answer : 

“ It is none of my business,” said he. 

“Very well,” said L^on, “then we shall go to the 
Commissary,” Thither they went ; the office was 
closed and dark; but the house was close by, and Leon 
was soon swinging the bell like a madman. The Com- 
missary’s wife appeared at a window. She was a thread- 
paper creature, and informed them that the Commissary 
had not yet come home, 

“ Is he at the Maire’s ? ” demanded Leon. 

She thought that was not unlikely. 

“Where is the Maire’s house ?” he asked. 

And she gave hi_m some rathef vague information on 
that point. 

“ Stay you here, Elvira,” said Leon, “ lest I should 
miss him by the way. If, when I return, I find you 
here no longer, I shall follow at once to the Black 
Head.” 

And he set out to find the Maire’s, It took him 
some ten minutes wandering among blind lanes, and. 
when he arrived it was already half .an hour past mid- 
night. A long white garden wall overhung by some 
thick chestnuts, a door with a letter-box, and an iron 
bell-pull, that was all that could be seen of the Maire’s 
domicile. Leon took the bell-pull in both hands, and 
danced furiously upon the side-walk. The bell itself 
was just upon the other side of the wall, it responded 
to his activity, and scattered an alarming clangor far 
and wide into the night. 

A window was thrown open in a house across the 
street, and a voice inquired the cause of this untimely 
uproar. 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GDI TAR. 


311 


“ I wish the Maire,” said Leon. 

“ He has been in bed this hour,” returned the voice. 

“ He must get up again,” retorted Leon, and he was 
for tackling the bell-pull once more. 

“You will never make him hear,” responded the 
voice. “ The garden is of great extent, the house is at 
the farther end, and both the Maire and his housekeeper 
are deaf.” 

“Aha ! ” said Leon, pausing. “The Maire is deaf, 
is he ? That explains.” And he thought of the even- 
ing’s concert with a momentary feeling of relief. 
“Ah ! ” he continued, “and so the Maire is deaf, and 
the garden vast, and the house at the far end ? ” 

“And you might ring all night,” added the voice, 
“ and be none the belter for it. You would only keep 
me awake.” 

“ Thank you, neighbor,” replied the singer. “ You 
shall sleep.” 

And he made off again at his best pace for the Com- 
missary’s. Elvira was still walking to and fro before 
the door. 

“ He has not come ? ” asked Leon. 

“ Not he,” she replied. 

“ Good,” returned Leon. “ I am sure our man’s 
inside. Let me see the guitar-case. I shall lay this 
siege in form, Elvira; I am angry; I am indignant; I 
am truculently inclined; but I thank my Maker I have 
still a sense of fun. The unjust judge shall be impor- 
tuned in a serenade, Elvira. Set him up — and set him up.” 

He had the case opened by this time, struck a few 
chords, and-fell into an attitude which was irresistibly 
Spanish. 

“ Now,” he continued, “ feel your voice. Are you 
ready ? Follow me ! ” 

The guitar twanged, and the two voices upraised, in 
harmony and with a startling loudness, the chorus of a 
song of old Be ranger’s: — 

Commissaire ! Commissaire ! 

Colin bat sa menagere.” 


312 


’ NE iV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


The stones of Castel-le-Gachis thrilled at this auda- 
cious innovation. Hitherto had the night been sacred 
to repose and nightcaps; and now what was this? 
Window after window was opened; matches scratched, 
and candles began to flicker; swollen sleepy faces 
peered forth into the starlight. There were two 
figures before the Commissary’s house, each bolt 
upright, with head thrown back and eyes interrogating 
the starry heavens; the guitar wailed, shouted, and 
reverberated like half an orchestra; and the voices, 
with a crisp and spirited delivery, hurled the appro- 
priate burden at the Commissary's window. All the 
echoes repeated the functionary’s name. It was’more 
like an entr’acte in a farce of Moliere’s than a passage 
of real life in Castel-le-Gachis. 

The Commissary, if he was not the first, was hot 
the last of the neighbors to yield to the influence of 
music, and furiously throw open the window of his 
bedroom. He was beside himself with rage. He 
leaned far over the window-sill, raving and gesticu- 
lating ; the tassel of his white night-cap danced like a 
thing of life: he opened his mouth to dimensions 
hitherto unprecedented, and yet his voice, instead of 
escaping from it in a roar, came fortVi shrill and choked 
and tottering. A little more serenading, and it was 
clear he would be better acquainted with the apo- 
ple*xy. 

I scorn to reproduce his language; he touched upon 
too many serious topics by the way for a quiet story- 
teller. Although he was known for a man who was 
prompt with his tongue, and had a power of strong 
expression at command, he excelled himself so remark- 
ably this night,that one maiden lady, who had got out 
of bed like the rest to hear the serenade, was obliged 
to shut her window at the second clause. Even what 
she Had heard disquieted her conscience; and next day 
she said she scarcely reckoned as a maiden lady any 
longer. 

Leon tried to explain his predicament, but he 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 313 

received nothing but threats of arrest by way of 
answer. 

“If I come down to you !” cried the Commissary. 

“Aye,” said Leon, “do!” 

“ I will not I ” cried the Commissary. 

“You dare not ! ” answered Leon, 

At that the Commissary closed his window. 

“All is over,” said the singer. “The serenade was 
perhaps ill-judged. These boors have no sense of 
humor.” 

“ Let us get away from here,” said Elvira, with a 
shiver. “ All these people looking — it is so rude and 
so brutal.” And then giving way once more to passion 
— “ Brutes I ” she cried aloud to the candle-lit specta- 
tors — “brutes! brutes! brutes.” 

“Sauve qui peut,” said Leon. “You have done it 
now ! ” 

And taking the guitar in one hand and the case in 
the other, he led the way with something too precipi- 
tate to be merely called precipitation from the scene 
of this absurd adventure. 


CHAPTER IV. 


To the west of Castel-le-Gachis four rows -of vener- 
able lime-trees formed, in this starry night, a twilit 
avenue with two side aisles of pitch darkness. Here 
and there stone benches were disposed between the 
trunks. There was not a breath of wind ; a heavy 
atmosphere of perfume hung about the alleys ; and 
every leaf stood stock-still upon its twig. Hither, 
after vainly knocking at an inn or two, the Berthelinis 
came at length to pass the night. After an amiable 
contention, Leon insisted on giving his coat to Elvira, 
and they sat down together on the first bench in 
silence. Leon made a cigarette, which he smoked to 
an end, looking up into the trees, and, beyond them, 
at the constellations, of which he tried vainly to recall 
the names. The silence was broken by the church 
bell ; it rang the four quarters on a light and tinkling 
measure ; then followed a single deep stroke that died 
slowly away with a thrill ; and stillness resumed its 
empire. 

“ One,” said Leon. ” Four hours till daylight. It 
is warm ; it is starry; I have matches and tobacco. 
Do not let us exaggerate, Elvira — the experience is 
positively charming. I feel a glow within me ; I am 
born again. This is the poetry of life. Think of 
Cooper’s novels, my dear.” 

“ Leon,” she said, fiercely, “ how can you talk such 
wicked, infamous nonsense ? To pass all night out of 
doors — it is like a nightmare ! We shall die.” 

“ You suffer yourself to be led away,” he replied, 
soothingly. “ It is not unpleasant here ; only you 
brood. Come, now, let us repeat a scene. Shall we try 
Alceste and C^limene ? No ? Ora passage from the 
‘Two Orphans?’ Come, now, it will occupy your 

314 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 


3'5 


mind ; I will play up to you as I never have played 
before ; I feel art moving in my bones.” 

“ Hold your tongue,” she cried, “ or you will drive 
me mad ! Will nothing solemnize you — not even this 
hideous situation ? ” 

“ Oh, hideous !” objected Leon. ^‘Hideous is not 
the word. Why, where would you be ? ‘ Dites, la 

jeune belle, ou voulez-vouz aller ? ’ ” he carolled. 
“Well, now,” he went on, opening the guitar-case, 
“ there’s another idea for you — sing. Sing ‘ Dites, la 
jeune belle ! ’ It will compose your spirits, Elvira, I 
am sure.” 

And without waiting an answer he began to strum 
the symphony. The first chords awoke a young man 
who was lying asleep upon a neighbouring bench. 

“ Hullo ! ” cried the young man, “ who are you ?” 

“ Under which king, Bezonian ? ” declaimed the 
artist. “ Speak or die ! ” 

Or if it was not exactly that, it was something to 
much the same purpose from a French tragedy. 

The young man drew near in the twilight. He was 
a tall, powerful, gentlemanly fellow, with a somewhat 
puffy face, dressed in a gray tweed suit, with a deer- 
stalker hat of the same material ; and as he now came 
forward he carried a knapsack slung upon one arm. 

“Are you camping out here, too ? ” he asked, with a 
strong English accent. “I’m not sorry for com- 
pany.” 

Leon explained their misadventure ; and the other 
told them that he w^as a Cambridge undergraduate on a 
walking tour, that he had run short of money, could 
no longer pay for his night’s lodging, had already been 
camping out for two nights, and feared he should 
require to continue the same manoeuvre for at least 
two nights more. 

“ Luckily, it’s jolly weather,” he concluded. 

“You hear that, Elvira,” said Leon. “Madame 
Berthelini,” he went on, “ is ridiculously affected by 
this trifling occurrence. For my part, I find it roman- 


3i6 


JV£PF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


tic and far from uncomfortable ; or at least,” he 
added, shifting on the stone bench, “ not quite so 
uncomfortable as might have been expected. But 
pray be seated.” 

“Yes,” returned the undergraduate, sitting down, 
“ it’s rather nice than otherwise when once you’re used 
to it ; only it’s devilish difficult to get washed. I like 
the fresh air and these stars and things.” 

“Aha ! ” said Leon, Monsieur is an artist.” 

“An artist ?” returned the other, with a blank stare. 
“ Not if I know it ! ” 

“ Pardon me,” said the actor. “ What you said this 
moment about the orbs of heaven ” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” cried the Englishman. *‘A fellow 
may admire the stars and be anything he likes.” 

“You have an artist’s nature, however, Mr. I 

beg your pardon ; may I, without indiscretion, inquire 
your name ? ” asked Leon. 

“My name is Stubbs,” replied the Englishman. 

“ I thank you,” returned Leon. “ Mine is Berthe- 
lini — Leon Berthelini, ex-artist of the theatres of Mont- 
rouge, Belleville, and Montmartre. Humble as you 
see me, I have created with applause more than one 
important role. The Press were unanimous in praise 
of my Howling Devil of the Mountains, in the piece 
of the same name. Madame, whom I now present to 
you, is herself an artist, and I must not omit to state, 
a better artist than her husband. She also is a crea- 
tor ; she created nearly twenty successful songs at one 
of ,the principal Parisian music-halls. But, *to con- 
tinue, I was saying you had an artist's nature. Mon- 
sieur Stubbs, and you must permit me to be a judge in 
such a question. I trust you will not falsify your 
instincts ; let me beseech you to follow the career of 
an artist.” 

“Thank you,” returned Stubbs, with a chuckle. 
“ I’m going to be a banker.” 

“ No,” said Leon, “ do not say so. Not that. A man 
with such a nature as yours should not derogate so far 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 


317 


What are a few privations here and there, so long as 
you are working for a high and noble goal ? ” 

“This fellow’s mad,” thought Stubbs; “but the 
woman’s rather pretty, and he’s not bad fun for 
himself, if you come to that. What he said was different. 
“ 1 thought you said you were an actor ? ” 

“ 1 certainly did so,” replied Leon. “I am one, or, 
alas ! I was.” 

“ And so you want me to be an actor, do you ? ” 
continued the undergraduate. “ Why, man, I could 
never so much as learn the stuff ; my memory’s like a 
sieve ; and as for acting. I’ve no more idea than a cat.” 

“ The stage is not the only course,” said Leon. “ Be 
a sculptor, be a dancer, be a poet or a novelist ; follow 
your heart, in short, and do some thorough work before 
you die.” 

“ And do you call these things art 7 ” inquired Stubbs. 

“ Why, certainly ! ” returned Leon. “ Are they not 
all branches ? ” 

“ Oh ! I didn’t know,” replied the Englishman. “ I 
thought an artist meant a fellow who painted.” 

The singer stared at him in some surprise. 

“ It is the difference of language,” he said at last. 
“ This Tower of Babel, when shall we have paid for it? If 
I could speak English you would followme more readily.” 

“Between you and me, I don’t believe I should,” 
replied the other. “ You seem to have thought a devil 
of a lot about this business. For my part, I admire the 
stars, and like to have them shining — it’s so cheery — 
but hang me if I had an idea it had anything to do with 
art ! It’s not in my line, you see. I’m not intellec- 
tual ; I have no end of trouble to scrape through my 
exams., I can tell you ! But I’m not a bad sort at 
bottom,” he added, seeing his interlocutor looked dis- 
tressed even in the dim starshine, “ and I rather like 
the play, and music, and guitars, and things.” 

Leon had a perception that the understanding was 
incomplete. He changed the subject. 

“ And so you travel on foot ? ” he continued. “ How 


NE W ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


318 

romantic ! How courageous ! And how are you 
pleased with my land ? How does the scenery affect 
you among these wild hills of ours ? ” 

“ Well, the fact is,” began Stubbs — he was about to 
say that he didn’t care for scenery, which was not at 
all true, being, on the contrary, only an athletic under- 
graduate pretension ; but he had begun to suspect that 
Berthelini liked a different sort of meat, and substituted 
something else — “ The fact is, I think it jolly. They 
told me it was no good up here ; even the guide-book 
said so ; but I don’t know what they meant. I think 
it is deuced pretty — upon my word, I do.” 

At this moment, in the most unexpected manner, 
Elvira burst into tears. 

“ My voice ! ” she cried. “ Leon, if I stay here 
longer I shall lose my voice ! ” 

“ You shall not stay another moment, ” cried the- 
actor. “ If I have to beat in a door, if I have to burn 
the town, I shall find you shelter.” 

With that, he replaced the guitar, and comforting 
her with some caresses, drew her arm through his. 

“ Monsieur Stubbs,” said he, taking off his hat, “ the 
reception I offer you is rather problematical ; but let 
me beseech you to give us the pleasure of your society. 
You are a little embarrassed for the moment ; you 
must, indeed, permit me to advance what may be neces- 
sary. I ask it as a favor ; we must not part so soon 
after having met so strangely.” 

“ Oh, come, you know,” said Stubbs, “ I can’t let a 

fellow like you ” And there he paused, feeling 

somehow or other on a wrong tack. . 

“ I do not wish to employ menaces,” continued Leon, 
with a smile ; “ but if you refuse, indeed I shall not 
take it kindly.” 

“ I don’t quite see my way out of it,” thought the 
undergraduate ; and then, after a pause, he said, aloud 
and ungraciously enough, “ All right. I — I’m very 
much obliged, of course.” And he proceeded to follow 
them, thinking in his heart, “ But it’s bad form, all the 
same, to force an obligation on a fellow.” 


CHAPTER V. 


Leon strode ahead as if he knew exactly where he 
was going; the sobs of Madame were still faintly audi- 
ble, and no one uttered a word. A dog barked furi- 
ously in a court-yard as they went by; then the church 
clock struck two, and many domestic clocks followed 
or preceded it in piping tones. And just then Berthe- 
lini spied a light. It burned in a small house on the 
outskirts of the town^ and thither the party now 
directed their steps. 

“ It is always a chance,” said Leon. 

The house in question stood back from, the street 
behind an open space, part garden, part turnip field; 
and several outhouses stood forward from either wing 
at right angles to the front. One of these had recently 
undergone some change. An enormous window, look- 
ing towards the north, had been effected in the wall 
and roof, and Leon began to hope it was a studio. 

“ If it’s only a painter,” he said, with a chuckle, 
“ten to one we get as good a welcome as we want.” 

“ I though! painters were principally poor,” said 
Stubbs. 

“ Ah,” cried L^on, “ you do not know the world as 
I do. The poorer the better for us.” 

And the trio advanced into the turnip field. 

The light was in the ground floor; as one window 
was brightly illuminated and two others more faintly, 
it might be supposed that there ‘was a single lamp in 
one corner of a large apartment; and a certain tremu- 
lousness and temporary dwindling showed that a live 
fire contributed to the effect. The sound of a voice 
now became audible ; and the trespassers paused to 
listen. It was pitched in a high, angry key, but had 
still a good, full, and masculine note in it. The utter- 

319 


326 


JV£IF ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ance was voluble, too voluble even to be quite distinct; 
a stream of words, rising and falling, with ever and 
again a phrase thrown out by itself, as if the speaker 
reckoned on its virtue. 

Suddenly another voice joined in. This time it was 
a woman’s; and if the man were angry, the woman was 
incensed to the degree of fury. There was that abso- 
lutely blank composure known to suffering males; that 
colorless unnatural speech which shows a spirit accu- 
rately balanced between homicide and hysterics; the 
tone in which the best of women sometimes utter words 
worse than death to those most dear to them. If 
Abstract Bones-and-Sepulchre were to be endowed with 
the gift of speech, thus, and not otherwise, would it 
discourse. Leon was a brave man, and I fear he was 
somewhat sceptically given (he had been educated in a 
Papistical .country), but the habit of childhood pre- 
vailed, and he crossed himself devoutly. He had met 
several women in his career. It was obvious that his 
instinct had not deceived him, for the male voice broke 
forth instantly in a towering passion. 

The undergraduate, who had not understood the 
significance of the woman’s contribution, pricked up 
his ears at the change upon the man. 

“There’s going to be a free fight,” he opined. 

There was another retort from the woman, still calm 
but a little higher. 

“ Hysterics ? ” asked Leon of his wife. “ Is that the 
stage direction ? ” 

“ How should I know ? ” returned Elvira, somewhat 
tartly. 

“Oh, woman, woman!” said Leon, beginning to 
open the guitar-case. “ It is one of the burdens of my 
life. Monsieur Stubbs; they support each other; they 
always pretend there is no system ; they say it’s 
nature. Even Madame Berthelini, who is a dramatic 
artist! ” 

“You are heartless, Leon,” said Elvira: “that 
woman is in troubles” 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 3^1 

“ And the man, my angel ? ” inquired Berthelini, 
passing the ribbon of his guitar. “And the man, 
in' amour '{ " 

“ He is a man,” she answered. 

“You hear that ? ” said Leon to Stubbs. “ It is not 
too late for you. Mark the intonation. And now,” 
he continued, “what are we to give them ?” 

“ Are you going to sing ? ” asked Stubbs. 

“I am a troubadour,” replied Leon. “ I claim a 
welcome by and for my art. If I were a banker could 
I do as much ? ” 

“ Well, you wouldn’t need, you know,” aswered the 
undergraduate. 

“ Egad,” said Leon, “ but that’s true. Elvira, that 
is true.” 

“ Of course it is,” she replied. “ Did you not know 
it?” 

“My dear,” answered Leon, impressively, “I know 
nothing but what is .agreeable. Even my knowledge 
of life is a work of art superiorly composed. But 
what are we to give them ? It should be something 
appropriate.” 

Visions of “ Let dogs delight ” passed through the 
undergraduate’s mind; but it occurred to him that the 
poetry was English and that he did not know the air. 
Hence he contributed no suggestion. 

“ Something about our houselessnesa,” said Elvira. 

“I have it,” cried Leon. And he broke forth into 
a song of Pierre Dupont’s: — 

Savez-vous ou git« 

Mai, ce joli mois ? 

Elvira joined in; so did Stubbs, with a good ear 
and voice, but an imperfect acquaintance with the 
music. Leon and the guitar were equal to the situa- 
tion. The actor dispensed his throat-notes with prod- 
igality and enthusiasm; and, as he looked up to heaven 
in his heroic way, tossing the black ringlets, it seemed 
to him that the very stars contributed a dumb applause 


322 


NEW ARABIA!^ NIGHTS. 


to his efforts, and the universe lent him its silence for 
a chorus. That is one of the best features of the 
heavenly bodies, that they belong to everybody in par- 
ticular; and a man like Leon, a chronic Endymion 
who managed to get along without encouragement, 
is always the world’s centre for himself. 

He alone — and it is to be noted, he was the worst 
singer of the three — took the music seriously to heart, 
and judged the serenade from a high artistic point of 
view. Elvira, on the other hand, was preoccupied 
about their reception; and, as for Stubbs, he consid- 
ered the whole affair in the light of a broad joke. 

“ Know you the lair of May, the lovely month ? " 
went the three voices in the turnip-field. 

The inhabitants were plainly fluttered; the light 
moved to and fro, strengthening in one window, 
paling in another; and then the door was thrown open, 
and a man in a blouse appeared on the threshold car- 
rying a lamp. He was a powerful young fellow, with 
bewildered hair and beard, wearing his neck open; his 
blouse was stained with oil-colors in a harlequinesque 
disorder; and there was something rural in the droop 
and bagginess of his belted trousers. 

From immediately behind him, and indeed over his 
shoulder, a woman’s face looked out into the darkness; 
it was pale and a little weary, although still young; it 
wore a dwindling, disappearing prettiness, soon to be 
quite gone, and the expression was both gentle and 
sour, and reminded one faintly of the.taste of certain 
drugs. For all that, it was not a face to dislike; when 
the prettiness had vanished, it seemed as if a certain 
pale beauty might step in to take its place; and as 
both the mildness and the asperity were characters of 
youth, it might be hoped that, with years, both would 
merge into a constant, brave, and not unkindly temper. 

“What is all this ?” cried the man. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Leon had his hat in his hand at once. He came for- 
ward with his customary grace; it was a moment which 
would have earned him a round of cheering on the 
stage. Elvira and Stubbs advanced behind him, like a 
couple of Admetus’s sheep following the god Apollo. 

“ Sir,” said Leon, “ the hour is unpardonably late, 
and our little serenade has the air of an impertinence. 
Believe me, sir, it is an appeal. Monsieur is an artist, 
I perceive. We are here three artists benighted and 
without shelter, one a woman — a delicate woman — in 
evening dress — in an interesting situation. This will 
not fail to touch the woman’s heart of Madame, whom 
I perceive indistinctly behind Monsieur her husband, 
and whose face speaks eloquently of a well-regulated 
mind. Ah ! Monsieur, Madame — one generous move- 
ment, and you make three people happy ! Two or 
three hours beside your fire — I ask it of Monsieur in 
the name of Art — I ask it of Madame by the sanctity 
of womanhood.” 

The two, as by a tacit consent, drew back from the 
door. 

“ Come in,” said the man. 

“ Entrez, Madame,” said the woman. 

The door opened directly upon the kitchen of the 
house, which was to all appearance the only sitting- 
room. The furniture was both plain and scanty; but 
there were one or two landscapes on the wall hand- 
somely framed, as if they had already visited the 
committee-rooms of an exhibition and been thence 
extruded. Leon walked up to the pictures and repre- 
sented the part of a connoisseur before each in turn, 
with his usual dramatic insight and force. The mas- 
ter of the house, as if irresistibly attracted, followed 

323 


324 


uVEPy ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


him from canvas to canvas with the lamp. Elvira was 
led directly to the fire, where she proceeded to warm 
herself, while Stubbs stood in the middle of the floor 
and followed the proceedings of Leon with mild aston- 
ishment in his eyes. 

“ You should see them by daylight,” said the artist. 

“ I promise myself that pleasure,” said Leon. “ You 
possess, sir, if you will permit me an observation, the 
art of composition to a T.” 

“ You are very good,” returned the other. “ But 
should you not draw nearer to the fire ? ” 

“ With all my heart,” said Leon. 

And the whole party soon gathered at the table over 
a hasty and not an elegant cold supper, washed down 
with the least of small wines. Nobody liked the meal, 
but nobody complained; they put a good face upon it, 
one and all, and made a great clattering of knives and 
forks. To see Leon eating a single cold sausage was 
to see a triumph; by the time he had done he had 
got through as much pantomime as would have sufficed 
for a baron of beef, and he had the relaxed expression 
of the over-eaten. 

As Elvira had naturally taken a place by the side of 
L^on, and Stubbs as naturally, although I believe 
unconsciously, by the side of Elvira, the host and 
hostess were left together. Yet it was to be noted 
that they never addressed a word to each other, nor 
so much as suffered their eyes to meet. The inter- 
rupted skirmish still survived in ill feeling ; and the 
instant the guests departed it would break forth again 
as bitterly as ever. The talk wandered from this to 
that subject — for with one accord the party had 
declared it was too late to go to bed ; but those two 
never relaxed towards each other ; Goneril and Regan 
in a sisterly tiff were not more bent on enmity. 

It chanced that Elvira was so much tired by all the 
little excitements of the night, that for once she laid 
aside her company manners, which were both easy 
and correct, and in the most natural manner in the 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 323 

world leaned her head on Leon’s shoulder. At the 
Same time, fatigue suggesting tenderness, she locked 
the fingers of her right hand into those of her hus- 
band’s left ; and, half-closing her eyes, dozed off into 
a golden borderland between sleep and waking. But 
ail the time she was not unaware of what was passing, 
and saw the painter’s wife studying her with looks 
between contempt and envy. 

It occurred to Leon that his constitution demanded 
the use of some tobacco; and he undid his fingers 
from Elvira’s in order to roll a cigarette. It was gen- 
tly done, and he took care that his indulgence should 
in no other way disturb his wife’s position. But it 
seemed to catch the eye of the painter’s wife with a 
special significancy. She looked straight before her 
for an instant, and then, with a swift and stealthy 
movement, took hold of her husband's hand below the 
table. Alas! she might have spared herself the dex- 
terity. For the poor fellow was so overcome by this 
caress that he stopped with his mouth open in the 
middle of a word, and by the expression of his face 
plainly declared to all the company that his thoughts 
had been diverted into softer channels. 

If it had not been rather amiable, it would have 
been absurdly droll. His wife at once withdrew her 
touch; but it was plain she had to exert some force. 
Thereupon the young man colored and looked for a 
moment beautiful. 

Leon and Elvira both observed the by-play, and a 
shock passed from one to the other; for they were 
inveterate match-makers, especially between those who 
were already married. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said Leon, suddenly. “ I see 
no use in pretending. Before we came in here we 
heard sounds indicating — if I may so express myself — 
an imperfect harmony.” 

“ Sir ” began the man. 

But the woman was beforehand. 

“ It is quite true, ’ she said. “ I see no cause to be 


326 


ATEPV ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


ashamed. If my husband is mad I shall at least do 
my utmost to prevent the consequences. Picture to 
yourself, Monsieur and Madame,” she went on, for 
she passed Stubbs over, “ that this wretched person — 
a dauber, an incompetent, not fit to be a sign-painter 
— receives this morning an admirable offer from an 
uncle — an uncle of my own, my mother’s brother, and 
tenderly beloved — of a clerkship witl\ nearly a hun- 
dred and fifty pounds a year, and that he — picture to 
yourself ! — he refuses it ! Why ? For the sake of 
Art, he says. Look at his art, I say — look at it ! Is 
it fit to be seen ? Ask him — is it fit to be sold ? And 
it is for this. Monsieur and Madame, that he con- 
demns me to the most deplorable existence, without 
luxuries, without comforts, in a vile suburb of a coun- 
try town. O non!” she cried, “non — ^je ne me tairai 
pas — c’est plus fort que moi I I take these gentlemen 
and this lady for judges — is this kind ? is it decent ? is 
it manly ? Do I not deserve better at his hands after 
having married him and ” — (a visible hitch) — “ done 
everything in the world to please him ? ” 

I doubt if there were ever a more embarrassed com- 
pany at a table ; everyone looked like a fool ; and the 
husband like the biggest. 

“ The art of Monsieur, however,” said Elvira, break- 
ing the silence, “is not wanting in distinction.” 

“ It has this distinction,” said the wife, “ that nobody 
will buy it.” 

“I should have supposed a clerkship ” began 

Stubbs. 

“ Art is Art,” swept in Leon. “ I salute Art. It is 
the beautiful, the divine ; it is the spirit of the world, 
and the pride of life. But ” And the actor paused. 

“ A clerkship ” began Stubbs. 

“ I’ll tell you what it is,” said the painter. “ I am 
an artist, and as this gentleman says. Art is this and 
the other ; but of course, if my wife is going to make 
my life a piece of perdition all day long, I prefer to go 
and drown myself out of hand.” 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR. 327 

“ Go ! ” said his wife. “ I should like to see you ! ” 

“ I was going to say,” resumed Stubbs, “ that a 
fellow may be a clerk and paint almost as much as he 
likes. I know a fellow in a bank who makes capital 
water-color sketches ; he even sold one for seven-and- 
six.” ’ 

To both the women this seemed a plank of safety ; 
each hopefully interrogated the countenance of her 
lord ; even Elvira, an artist herself ! — but indeed there 
must be something permanently mercantile in the 
female nature. The two men exchanged a glance ; it 
was tragic ; not otherwise might two philosophers 
salute, as at the end of a laborious life each recognized 
that he was still a mystery to his disciples. 

Leon arose. 

"Art is Art,” he repeated, sadly. “ It is not water- 
color sketches, nor practising on a piano. It is a life 
to be lived.” 

“ And in the meantime people starve !” observed the 
woman of the house. "If that’salife, it is not one forme.” 

"I’ll tell you what,” burst forth Leon; "you 
Madame, go into another room and talk it over with 
my wife ; and Til stay here and talk it over with your 
husband. It may come to nothing, but let’s try.” 

" I am very willing,” replied the young woman ; and 
she proceeded to light a candle. " This way if you 
please.” And she led Elvira upstairs into a bedroom. 
" The fact is,” said she, sitting down, " that my hus- 
band cannot paint.” 

" No more can mine act,” replied Elvira. 

" I should have thought he could,” returned the 
other ; " he seems clever.” 

“ He is so, and the best of men besides,” said 
Elvira ; " but he cannot act.” 

" At least he is not a sheer humbug like mine ; he 
can at least sing.” 

"You mistake Leon,” returned his wife, warmly. 
" He does not even pretend to sing ; he has too fine a 
taste ; he does so for a living. And, believe me, neither 


Ji/£iy ARABIAN NIGHTS. 


328 

of the men are humbugs. They are people with a 
mission — which they cannot carry out.” 

“ Humbug or not,” replied the other, “ you came 
very near passing the night in the fields ; and, for my 
part, I live in terror of starvation. I should think it 
was a man’s mission to think twice about his wife. But 
it appears not. Nothing is their mission but to play 
the fool. Oh!” she broke out, “is it not something 
dreary to think of that man of mine ? If he could 
only do it, who would care ? But no — not he — no more 
than I can ! ” 

“ Have you any children ? ” asked Elvira. 

“ No ; but then I may.” 

“ Children change so much,” said Elvira, with a sigh. 

And just then from the room below there flew up a 
sudden snapping cord on the guitar ; one followed 
after another ; then the voice of Leon joined in ; and 
there was an air being played and sung that stopped 
the speech of the two women. The wife of the 
painter stood like a person transfixed ; Elvira, looking 
into her eyes, could see all manner of beautiful mem- 
ories and kind thoughts that were passing in and out 
of her soul with every note ; it was a piece of her 
youth that went before her ; a green French plain, the 
smell of apple-flowers, the far and shining ringlets of 
a river, and the words and presence of love. 

“ Leon has hit the nail,” thought Elvira to herself, 
“ I wonder how.” 

The how was plain enough. Leon has asked the 
painter if there were no air connected with courtship 
and pleasant times; and having learned what he wished, 
and allowed an interval to pass, he had soared forth 
into 

O mon amante, 

O mon desir 
Sachons cueillir 
L'heure charmante ! 

“ Pardon me, Madame,” said the painter’s wife, “ your 
husband sings admirably well.” 


PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR, 329 

“ He sings that with some feeling,” replied Elvira, 
critically, although she was a little moved herself, for 
the song cut both ways in the upper chamber ; but it 
is as an actor and not as a musician.” 

“ Life is very sad,” said the other ; “ it so wastes 
away under one’s fingers.” 

“ I have not found it so, replied Elvira. “I think 
the good parts of it last and grow greater every day,” 

“ Frankly how would you advise me .? ” 

“Frankly I would let my husband do what he 
wished. He is obviously a very loving painter ; you 
have not yet tried him as a clerk. And you know — if 
it were only as the possible father of your children — it 
is as well to keep him at his best.” 

“ He is an excellent fellow,” said the wife. 

They kept it up till sunrise with music and all man- 
ner of good-fellowship ; and at sunrise, while the sky 
was still temperate and clear, they separated on the 
threshold with a thousand excellent wishes for each 
other’s welfare. Castel-le-Gachis was beginning to 
send up its smoke against the golden East ; and the 
church bell was ringing six. 

“ My guitar is a familiar spirit,” said Leon, as he 
and Elvira took the nearest way toward the inn ; “ it 
resuscitated a Commissary, created an English tour- 
ist, and reconciled a man and wife.” 

Stubbs, on his part, went off into the morning with 
reflections of his own. 

“ They are all mad,” thought he, “ all mad — but 
wonderfully decent.” 


THE ENDw 




THE LEISURE-HOUR SERIES.I 

A collection of works whose character is Hgrht aiul though not triviaO 

While they are handy for the pocket or the satchel, they are not, either in contents or 
appearance, unworthy of a place on the lihraty shelves. 16ino, ^th. $I per Vol 

CALVERLEY, C. S 

FI,Y-I.EAVKS. y^rses 

CAVENDISH.” 


ABOUT, E. 

The Man with the Bro- 
ken Ear. 

The Notary's nose. 
ALC^STIS. A M^isicul 
Nttvel. 

ALEXANDER, Mrs. 

The WOOING O'T. 

W hich Shali. it Be? 
Ralph Wilton’s whiro. 
Her Hearest foe. 

H ERITAGE OF LANGPALE. 

Maid. wmfe. or widow? 

1 HE FRFRES. 

Look f 
THE 

THE & :toi 

AUER 

The 

a vols. tviift P*rtt 
Black 
The Lir"LE 
Joseph 
Edelwe 
German. 

On THE ^ 

The Coi**^ 




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LorlIby 



Card Rssiiys. Clay’s Decisioti^ 
and Card table talk. 

CHELSEA HOUSE- 
HOLDER, A. 
CHERBULIEZ, V. 

Joseph Noim fl's Revenge 

Count k ostia. 

Prosper. 

CONWAY, HUGH. 

Called Back. 

Dark Days. 

Bou.nd I ogether. 

COR^PAN. 

V ^ 

OKAVEN. Mrr > 

fleurange. 

CROFFUT, W. A. 

Midsummer La*<i:. 

pEMOCRACY. A 




TTith Illu$$r 
i a‘tower. 


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W'ALpFKtiro. 

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Spinoza. 

Master biei.and. 

BEERBOHlti, J. 

W'andp.rings IN Patagonia 

BEERS, HENRY A. 

A Century of American 
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The Revolt of Man. 

BJORNSON, B. 

The Fisher-Maidbn. 

BUTT, B. 

Miss Molly. 

Eugenie. 

Delicia. 

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Ida Craven. 


i Novell 

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babo^Son. O 

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Louis; 

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wyncote. 

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the I'iRsr Violin. 
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francillon, r e. 

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GIFT, THEO. 

Prei ty Miss Bellkw. 
Maid Hllice. 

A matter-of-Fact c;irl. 

GOETHE, J, W Von. 

ELECTIVE AFFINITIES. 



GRIFFITHS, Arthur 

LOfl^. 

GRpHMAN, W- A B 

G ADDINGS WITH A PRIMI 
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HARDY, THOMAS 

Under, the Greenwood 
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A Pair of Blue Eyf^. 
.Desperate Remedies. 

Far from the Madding 
Crowd, mus . 

Hand of Ethelberta. 
Return of the Native. 
XHJS^'XI'MHET-MAJOR. 

A Lao^^.an 
TW'O 

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SG’NITLI-ATIONS. 

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The Mi .l'RESS OF IBICH 

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HjH-LOW. 

» ' PPU; M.A.M. 

A TORY if Carnival. 

’Vj Mrs. A. W, 

Caskbt. 

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»VHO BRCTKS-PAYS. 
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A Psyche of To-Day. 
Madame de Beaupre, 
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Within an Ace. 

JOHNSON. Rossiter. 

it.ay-Day Poems. 

LAFFAN. MAY. 

The HON Miss Ferrard. 
Christy Carrw. 

LUCY. HENRY W. 
Gideon Flkvce. 
McQRATH, T. 
Pictures from Ireland. 
MAJ£NDlE,Lady M. 

GlANNEnO. 

Dl FA. 

MAXWELL. CECIL. 

A Story of three sisters. 

MOLESWORTR.Mrs 

H A1 HERCOURT. 





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TWO HISTORICAL BOYS’-BOOKS. 


j “Two books which we can cordially recommend to young readers.” — Bouton Tian- 
script. 

RALPH, THE DRUMMER BOY. 

; A story of the days of Washington. By Louis RoussELET. Trans- 
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CAPTAIN PHIL. 

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^ CALLIRRHOE: FAIR ROSAMUND. « 

Two Dramatic Poems. By Michael Field. 16mo. .,,i.25. 


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WINTHROP. 

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j Parts IV. and V. ITALIAN LITERATURE. 2 vols. $7.00. 


SYMOND^ IT 

By John Addington 9 ^M()ni, 



Y-WAYS. 

‘Renaissance in Italy. 


Perhaps we shall hesf^aise .Mr. Simond’s latest sketches hy saving that we 
have never hceii so conscious of a keen dc‘ .le ic v.i: -w in a trnvellegii footsteps ai 
while turning over the plca.sniit pages of Itf lien Ilv A MaWt^settf ' 




















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